The Lessons You Learn
by AllThingsInsane
Summary: AU. The lessons you learn the hard way can be the hardest lessons of all. When Caleb is accused of a murder he didn't commit, it sends his entire family into a tailspin as they struggle to come to terms with the devastating news and with the events that follow it. But underneath all the confusion and pain, hope lies just beneath the surface.
1. Chapter 1

_Medina, Minnesota_

_8:30 AM_

Caleb West paced in the small, artifically-lighted interrogation room, running a hand over his exhausted, world-weary face as the events of the last several hours ran unwillingly through his overtaxed mind: Lexa Branch, a beautiful and smart eighteen-year-old girl was dead; killed by a shape-shifter that had taken his form to do it.

_Why did it have to kill her? Why did it have to kill her? _Those ran torturous and unrelenting through his cluttered mind as he thought about the callousness and the brutality of the crime, and how the shifter had slaughtered her without any thought, without any compunctions.

He had driven the two hour drive to Medina to check on a possible lead involving a shifter that had shown it's ugly face around an upper-class suburb of Medina. He had studied several hours worth of CCTV footage before going, and was confident in what he was dealing with.

What he hadn't counted on was meeting Lexa. Her brother had been the latest victim of the shifter: Arrested for the murder of their parents and had been bound over for trial as a result of the "evidence" against him. Caleb had promised Lexa that he would try his hardest to get her brother exonerated and home to her and her aunt and uncle.

He had failed, and the shifter had taken his form, dragged him and tied him up to a sewer and had killed Lexa, leaving her body for her landlord to find when he had heard the murder happen and had broken in to find her bloody body. He hadn't even been aware of the murder until he had gotten free and had rushed to her apartment to find the cop cars surrounding the place, and blocking off the entire apartment from access.

"Mr. West?"

His head snapped up, his pacing stopped as the investigators entered the room. He had been told to wait in the room for them, the waiting had been the hardest. He had no idea what they were thinking, had no idea if this was a routine part of their investigation and they were just eliminating people, or if, worst case scenario, they were beginning to cast a closer look at him for some reason.

"Yeah."

"I'm detective Lang," the detective closest to Caleb said, and the youngest by the looks of it. "This is my partner, Detective Jorgan."

Jorgan was around mid-fifties and wore, like his partner, a complete look of none-interest, and a passive expression. He knew that was probably a deliberate ploy on their part to make their suspect relax and not be worried about they were thinking, and to trust them.

"Nice to meet you."

"Let's have a seat."

He nodded as he took the seat where they directed him. He knew this was a deliberate set up on their part: One investigator was behind the plain steel desk, the other was in front of him. He knew this from his brother that it was all a set-up to make the suspect feel as uncomfortable as possible and make them more willing to talk. _Fat chance_, he thought with a barely suppressed snort.

"Want some water?" Jorgan said, taking a sip from his own styrofoam cup.

Caleb shook his head. He had developed a pretty deep mistrust of police and law enforcement, in general, after hearing horror stories from other hunters about them and how they were always dodging them for one thing or another. "I'm good."

"Alright," Lang said, opening a manila folder that was in front of him. "How did you first meet Miss Branch? Casual friends, family friend?"

"I met her because I had heard that her brother was accused of murdering their parents, and I was just someone who was offering to help her-"

Jorgan held up his hand, effectively halting Caleb's statement. "Help her with what?"

Caleb bit back the retort that was on his lips. "I was offering to help her find an attorney and a lawyer, and if possible, get her brother exonerated."

"Okay. So how long ago was this initial meeting between you two?"

"About five days ago, give or take."

Lang raised an eyebrow but didn't comment further. "Okay, so you met her and then what?"

"Then we swung by her aunt and uncles, and then we went to lunch-"

"Where?"

Caleb shrugged. It had been so long ago, and the day such a blur, that he had trouble remembering the place where they had first eaten and gotten to really know each other. "I think it was an Olive Garden, but I can't be sure."

"Changing the topic," Jorgan said, "the day she died, what was her demeanor?"

Caleb remembered _that _all too well. She had been upset because she had told him that her ex-boyfriend was beginning to harrass her, and she was contemplating reporting him. "She was upset."

Lang raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"She told me that her ex-boyfriend had been calling her and threatening her, and she was pretty freaked about it."

"Anything else she said?"

"She said that if he kept calling her, she would report him."

"What time was that conversation?"

"About eight or nine."

"_About_?" Jorgan said.

"I think so," Caleb said, beginning to grow frustrated. "I can't give you an accurate time, okay?"

"Alright, that's okay," Lang said, shooting his partner a look that Caleb didn't like at all. "When did you first hear about her death?"

"From her aunt, around an hour or so after her body-" Caleb took a deep breath to compose himself. "Had been found." He could see the investigators mentally creating a timeline based on his words, and what he was telling them.

"So around ten or so?"

Caleb nodded.

"I'm sorry to ask," Jorgan said, "but was your relationship with Lexa sexual in any way?"

Caleb gaped at him, quickly closing his mouth when he was aware that it was open. He knew how brutal police interrogations could be, but he wasn't at all prepared for questions like that. "She was an eighteen-year-old girl, sir. I would never have that kind of relationship with a child."

"Okay, we're sorry," Lang said, "it was something we had to ask."

"What we're having a problem with," Jorgan said, "is the fact that at the crime scene, we found a knife there, and the knife tested postive for your DNA."

_No, no, no. _

He knew his hunting blade had been missing from his pocket when he had finally gotten away from the shifter, but he had no idea, hadn't connected the dots at all to the murder. He knew how it looked, he knew then that the investigators _were _looking at him, and they would be idiots not to, he realized.

"It-It wasn't-"

"Don't lie," Jorgan said quietly, shifting into the role that Caleb knew was supposed to make him sound and look like the 'good cop' while his friend took on the role of 'bad cop'. "We can help you, but you have to be honest in order for us to do that."

"I'm telling you that wasn't my knife."

He knew it was a weak lie, but it was the only one he could think of at the spur of the moment. His heart was racing, thudding painfully against his chest, and his palms were sweating profusely as he wiped them on his jeans.

"So you're saying that your DNA just randomly happened to be on that blade?" Lang said skeptically. "Don't treat us like idtiots, Mr. West. We have an obligation to find out what happened to that girl and we will, believe me."

"Then why don't you look at her boyfriend instead of looking at me."

"We have witness statements from her neighbors on the floor above her. They could hear screaming," Lang said, "_screaming_ in fear and in pain. But before that, they heard her shouting, telling her assailant to leave her alone, to get out."

Caleb's stomach turned at that piece of information that he hadn't known previously before. It only made him want to find the shifter that had carried out this heinous act and end him before he could add another victim to his list.

"I didn't do anything to her," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "My wife was murdered. I would never hurt a girl, ever," he said desperately.

Jorgan leaned foreword in his chair and placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder—Caleb instantly jerked away from the touch. He could see Jorgan's mouth tighten, but he didn't comment on the rejection. "I don't think you _meant _to kill her, did you? It was just an accident that spiraled out of control. Of course you would never mean to do this purposefully."

_Great. Mind games._

"I didn't kill her-"

"Its okay, to admit it," Jorgan said. "We can help you."

"I don't need your help."

"The way the crime scene was set up," Lang said, "it appears to us like the killer was let in, he didn't force his way in. It was someone that she trusted."

"So you think she let me in and then I killed her?"

"Is that what happened?"

Caleb shook his head, feeling sick. "No. I didn't touch her."

"We would like to have permission from you to compare DNA found at the scene," Jorgan said. "Just some mouth swabs and things like that."

Caleb took a deep breath. "I need to call my attorney."

"Sure. The phone's right out in the hall."

Caleb had never gotten out of a chair so fast in his entire life. He felt like he was finally able to _breathe _now that he was out of that stuffy, overbearing room. He made good on his threat to call his attorney when he reached the front desk and requested the phone.

"_Dawn Lincoln, speaking."_

He sighed in relief and leaned against the counter in relief. "Hey, girl," he said softly. He had met Dawn through mutual friends and, in addition to being his attorney whenever he needed one, he also considered her to be a good friend to him.

"_Caleb, how are you?"_

He sighed deeply. "Not too good. I have this situation in Medina, I need some help pretty bad."

"_What's going on?"_

He went on to explain the entire situation to her, including his brutal police interrogation, which he estimated had lasted almost the entire day.

"_I can be there tonight. Don't answer anymore questions, and don't submit to anything until I talk to you." _

"Will they let me leave?"

He was honestly worried about that. He was worried they would detain him until he agreed to do the DNA testing, and he wasn't at all keen on spending time behind bars for any length of time, no matter how short.

"_They have to. They haven't charged you with a crime yet, and jailing you now would be false imprisoment."_

"Okay, good."

"_Where are you staying?"_

"At the Marriott hotel on third streeet."

"_Okay, I'll meet you in the lobby around six-ish?"_

"Sounds good."

* * *

**This story is a companion piece to my other story "Missing" which is AU and centers around Caleb and Jim raising Sam and Dean after the death of John Winchester in a hunting accident. That's all you really need to know-its not required that you read the other story to understand this one.**


	2. Chapter 2

Meeting Dawn in the hotel restaurant was bittersweet for Caleb, who was used to seeing her only in times of stress like now, and when he needed some expert help. He counted her as a friend to him, but he knew that she wasn't like any "normal" friend and that them meeting was solely a professional reason and not anything else.

He walked into the newly remodeled restaurant, secretely wondering what exactly they had remodeled, and spotted Dawn almost immediately at one of the tables closest to the doors. When she spotted him, she smiled and stood up, giving him a careful hug as they sat back down.

"How are you?" She asked, once the waitress had served them their drinks and brought them their menus. "I mean, besides the obvious." She sipped her drink as she watched him for his reaction. She had known him for a few years, but there were still parts of him that were a mystery to her, and she doubted she would ever fully understand him, and what exactly was so mysterious about him.

He half-smiled as he took a drink of his Coke. "I'm hanging in there." That was true. He still felt numb from Lexa's death, and he was emotionally and physically exhausted from the brutal police interrogation, but he was _okay_. He wasn't falling apart—at least not yet.

"Good. So tell me what's happened."

He didn't need to ask what she meant, he already knew. "The police think I killed her."

"Why?"

"Because they have some knife they found at her apartment that tested postive for my DNA."

As a defense attorney, she knew that was bad. She knew how revelent DNA was becoming, and how often it was used to either convict or aquitt accused offenders.

"Was it yours?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but I had been over there earlier in the day and I had brought the knife with me. Dawn, I collect knives, okay? I didn't kill her-"

She held up a hand to stop his dialogue. "I know you didn't, okay? I had to ask, though."

He nodded. "Now they're saying things like they want me to take a lie detector test and want to compare my DNA."

"Do not submit to a lie detector test," she said immediately, knowing that even if he took it, the results were rarely allowed to be submitted into evidence. "They're rarely used anymore in trials, and the cops know that sometimes people can manipulate the system."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "If they want your DNA, then let them take that but that's it."

"Okay."

"I have the crime scene report right here," she pulled a file from the seat next to her and handed it to Caleb to look at. "I have to warn you, there's a few photographs in there that are pretty graphic but this basically outlines everything that the crime scene investigators found and cataloged at the scene."

Caleb nodded as he set the file on the table and opened it to take a look. The first few pages outlined the condition in which Lexa's body had been found in, and a basic outline of the items around her that had been secured. The blade, Caleb realized, was one of the first items on the list.

Even though Dawn had warned him in advance about the brutality of the photographs, nothing could have prepared him for seeing the actual thing: Stab wounds covering her body, and one gash across her throat that Caleb knew had been one of the fatal ones. He felt sick as he stared at her beautiful body and how disfigured it was as a result of what the monster had done to her.

He was beyond words as he put the file down and swiped a hand across his mouth, trying to rid himself of the nauseous feelings that were coursing through his body, intent on torturing him.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," he said, and meaning every word of it too. He fully intended on finding the monster and killing it and getting revenge for Lexa and her family that had already lost so much already. "I mean it."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Dawn said, watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye as she ate her food. "The medical examiner said none of those wounds were fatal except, obviously, for the throat injury."

Caleb shook his head, feeling sick all over again. "So whoever did this, kept her alive until the last minute?"

Dawn hesitated but then nodded. "It appears to be that way, based on that report and the autopsy."

"Is that in here?"

Dawn nodded. "Near the back." Caleb nodded and flipped through the disgusting photographs and statements, until he reached the back of the file and saw the autopsy report in full. It was a long report, he only read the parts that were of interest to him and skimmed the rest. His worst fears had been confirmed when the report mentioned the fact that most of Lexa's injuries had been superficial, defensive wounds and that the assailant had held off on killing her until the point in which he had drawn the knife across her throat.

Caleb closed the file and threw it back on the table, running his hands over his face as their waitress set a shot of tequila down in front of him. He threw her a grateful look as she walked away, and he downed the drink almost in one sitting.

"Has there been any other DNA searching done?"

Dawn nodded. "Yes. The forensics team scoured the place after the initial search and collected hair samples, um, footprints, everything."

Caleb nodded. "Good."

"They're interviewing several people right now. People they either hope to eliminate as suspects, and others that they'll keep an open mind to."

"Sounds like they already have their guy."

She nodded, her face sympathetic. "I know it _appears _that way, but they're just doing their job-"

"I know, but it sucks."

"I know, but just keep in mind that they're not out to get you, they're just trying to figure out what happened to this girl and that includes interviewing every single person that she knew and was with in the days and hours leading up to her death."

* * *

Caleb had never been so grateful to drive out of a town in his entire life. He had been put through the emotional wringer the last several days with Lexa and her death, that he would be happy if he never saw another hunt again. He scrubbed his hand over his face, keeping one hand on the wheel as he thought about everything that had happened since her death, and the cloud of suspicion the police kept over him.

All he wanted was to return to Blue Earth, to the boys, to his job and forget everything that had happened in Medina. If that was even possible. The investigators had let him leave town, but only reluctantly, after he had let them take a hair and mouth sample from him. He knew the only reason he had been allowed to walk out, was because the investigators still didn't have enough evidence against him to act.

When he finally, after what seemed like an eternity, pulled into his driveway and glimpsed his home for the first time, he felt his entire body go slack with the relief that he felt at just being _home_. He never felt like that, never felt so relieved, but he knew the hunt he had been on, hadn't been any "normal" hunt and that it drastically gone south.

"Hey, kiddo, he looked up as seven-year-old Sam came out into the garage where he was unloading his hunting gear. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much," Sam said, running up to Caleb and wrapping his arms around him as Caleb picked him up. "I missed you. Where were you?"

"I was in Medina, working."

Sam wrinkled his nose the way he did when he was confused about something, or when he didn't agree with the person talking. It was adorable, but sometimes he used it to his advantage when he wanted to get out of trouble. "Why couldn't I come?"

Caleb ran his hand through Sam's hair as he held the boy close, grinning at his comment. It was so typical of him to question things that he didn't understand, or to argue his point when he wanted to prove something. "Next time, okay?"

"When next time?" Sam persisted. "I want to go."

"When you're older," Caleb replied firmly. "Not a minute later, either. Mind helping me get my stuff in the house?"

Sam pouted, but eventually nodded his head as Caleb set him down and handed him a bag that he knew Sam's little body would be able to carry. "What's in here?"

"Uh, just my clothes."

"Oh," Sam said simply. "Okay."

"Hey, where's your brother?"

"He's downstairs, using the punching bag. He didn't hear you come."

Caleb knew that. He and Dean had always had a bond with each other, and he knew that the eleven-year-old would have been right there along with Sam if he had heard him pull in. "Can you go get him and tell him I'll be in the kitchen?"

He had some guns and other weapons that needed cleaning, and he knew that Dean would probably love to help him while they discussed Caleb's hunt. He knew that it would probably take him the entire length of time they were cleaning the guns, to tell him all that had happened in Medina.

"Okay."

"Thank you, buddy."

He smiled as he watched Sam disappear down the flight of stairs that led to their basement—recently, Caleb had done a complete renovation of the basement and had included a new sectional sofa, new large screen TV, and his and Dean's favorite: A workout room that housed every kind of exercise equipment that one could ever dream of.

It wasn't long at all before he heard Dean's voice mixed in with his brother's, and then both of their footsteps on the stairs. "Hey," Dean said, appearing in the kitchen only a second later. "When did you get back?" His eyes automatically scanned the kitchen and the stuff that Caleb had brought back.

"Only a few minutes ago. Want to help me clean these guns?"

Dean scoffed sarcastically. "Well, _duh_," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Let's do it."

"Sam, do you want to stay out here or do you want to go and watch TV?" Caleb said as Sam came back in the kitchen. He was hovering around the entrance, watching them and what they were doing.

"Can I watch _Thundercats_?" Sam asked, referencing his favorite show. "Jim taped the new episode for me."

"Yeah, I'll get it for you," Dean said, jumping up from his place on the barstool and going into the living room to turn on the show for his brother. "Okay, are you going to be okay while Caleb and I clean the guns?"

Sam nodded absently, looking around Dean at the TV. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Dean shook his head at his brother's obsession for the show, but was amused by it too. He had grown up watching _Spiderman _and shows like that, but his brother loved watching the kind of shows that Dean found to be the exact opposite of entertaining.

He walked back out into the kitchen and lazily flung himself into the seat next to Caleb, who was assembling their cleaning equipment. "So what happened on the hunt? Anything interesting?" He only meant that as a rhetorical question. He knew, of course, that something interesting _had _to have happened. It was just the name of the game when one of his guardians went hunting.

Caleb looked up at him from the gun he was cleaning and smiled wryly. "You can say that. Hand me that cleaner right there."

"What do you mean?" Dean handed him the cleaner and waited for his response. "Something bad?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, remember the case?"

Dean nodded. He remembered vivdly pouring over the crime scene photographs with Caleb, and reading the detailed autopsy reports, and putting together piece by piece, what had happened to the middle-aged couple who had mysteriously been found murdered in their upscale home.

"Yeah, their son was arrested for his parent's deaths, but it was a shifter that had done it."

That was one of the sticking points in their short investigation: The monster, in the security footage, had distinctive, glowing white eyes, the signature for a shape-shifter.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. When I got there, I met up with his sister, Lexa. She and I sort of-" Caleb shook his head. "I don't know, but we had a friendship with each other."

Dean nodded, sensing that the further that Caleb went with his story, the more upset he was getting. "And so? What happened?" He could feel it—he knew something had happened there, something that had greatly shaken his usually unshakable guardian.

"The shifter got to her, killed her."

Dean shook his head slowly, feeling the typical and not unfamiliar feelings of anger and disgust roll through him whenever he thought of a monster hurting an innocent person, and in this case, family.

"I'm sorry."

Caleb nodded, swallowing back the bile that had risen in the back of his throat. "So am I. She was a special girl. Anyway, the cops think I had something to do with it."

"They _what_?" Dean said, looking at him incredulously. "How? Why do they think you did that? _How _do they think you did that?"

Caleb half-shrugged, lifting one shoulder. "Know what DNA is?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, Miss Asher covered it in her class. Why? What does that have do with anything?"

Caleb sighed, taking a deep breath as he prepared to lunge into the next part of his story. "Well," he put his hands on either side of the counter as he spoke. "They found that silver blade I always carry around with me, and the knife-" Caleb swallowed, taking in a large lungful of air. "It tested positive for my DNA and the knife also had her blood on it."

Dean groaned, a quiet, low sound. "No. So that's why-"

"So that's why the cops are questioning me."

"Did they already?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, they brought me in for questioning, and then they made me consent to have them swab me for DNA."

"Why did they do that?"

"Just so they could compare it to DNA at the crime scene."

"Oh." Dean grew quiet as his mind struggled to make sense of all that had Caleb had just revealed to him. It was confusing and it was upsetting. "So nothings going to happen, right?" He needed to hear it for his own peace of mind, he needed to know that nothing would change.

"I don't know. I have my attorney, Dawn, working on it right now."

"Oh."

"Dean," Caleb said, noticing for the first time the look on his face. "It will all be fine, I promise. Dawn's good. She really is. Nothing will happen to me, okay?"

"I know, its just the thought, you know?"

Caleb nodded. "I know. But its going to be fine."

Caleb put away the cleaning supplies, then. "So you want to go out and watch TV with Sammy?"

Dean shrugged. "Sure."

"Or would you rather do something else?"

"No, TV is good."

When they went into the living room, they found Sam half-asleep on the couch, his show still playing an episode. Caleb grinned and eased himself on the sofa and gently took Sam so that Sam was lying across his chest. He barely stirred at being moved, just cuddled himself against Caleb.

"Aw, sleeping beauty," Dean said with a smile as he turned his attention to the show. "He's _so _precious."

Caleb halted a laugh behind his hand so he wouldn't wake Sam up. "He is, isn't he?"

Dean grinned and nodded. "Yeah."

"Oh, did you talk to Jim today?"

Dean looked at him and nodded. "Yeah, he's good. He said he should be back by, like, tomorrow or something."

Caleb nodded. "Okay." Jim had been on a mission trip the last week and a half in Africa. It had been the trip of a lifetime, and something that his church had been planning for months.

"Glad you're back," Dean said with a yawn.

Caleb smiled. "I am too."

"Love you."

"Love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam and Dean loved it when their "uncle" Bobby came to visit them from Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It wasn't often that they got to see him—he was often busy with his hunting duties, and running his salvage yard business, but when he was able to visit, or have the boys visit him, he was putty in their charming, cute hands. For all his tough-guy exterior, Bobby was a complete softie for the boys, and showed it more than he actually verbalized it.

"Good. You're here," Caleb said, getting the hamburgers he had been cooking off the stove top and setting them on a large silver plate. "Put these on the table and here-" he handed the older hunter a ketchup and mustard bottle. "Put those on the table."

"I drive for two hours and I've being treated like a slave," Bobby grumbled as he put the food items on the table and pulled out a chair for himself. "Where's Jim?" He asked as he helped Sam in his seat and made a plate for him.

"Um," Caleb said absently as he helped Dean with his hamburger, "his flight got delayed."

Caleb enjoyed spending time with the boys and getting the rare one-on-one time to bond with them, and to hear about all the things that were happening in their young lives, but he was glad that Bobby was there to help him, especially since Jim's flight had gotten delayed due to bad weather.

"From where?"

"He was in Africa for a mission trip," Dean said, coming over to the table with his plate and sitting next to Caleb. "He's been gone _so _long."

Bobby chuckled as he helped himself to the food. "It was for his Church?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. It was some trip they had been planning for months or something."

"Oh."

Caleb grinned as he put the bun over his burger. "Sam." When Sam looked over at him, Caleb lifted the bun slightly so it looked like the hamburger was talking. "Sammy, what are you doing?"

Sam giggled, food bits dropping out of his mouth. "Talking to a hamburger."

"Is that all?"

Sam outright laughed. "No. I'm also eating."

Caleb made the hamburger have a frown face. "You're not going to eat me, are you? That wouldn't be very nice."

Sam shook his head in agreement. "I won't eat you. What's your name?"

"Hmm, that's a good question."

Caleb looked over at Dean, who was barely keeping a straight face as he tried to eat his food. "Dean, have any suggestions?"

"Um, Mr. Beefhead?"

"My name is Mr. Beefhead," Caleb said, turning back to Sam, playing with the hamburger again. "What's your name, little boy?"

"Sam Winchester."

"Wow, that's a nice name, Samuel."

Sam shook his head. "No! Its Sam!"

Caleb shook with laughter as he kept up his game. "I'm sorry, what did you say, Samuel?"

Sam stuck his tongue out at the hamburger. "My. Name. Is. Sam," he pointed to himself. "You're Mr. Beefhead."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Sam looked to Bobby in desperation, obviously believing that he was really talking to a bizarre talking hamburger named Mr. Beefhead. "Bobby!" He whined. "He won't call me Sam!"

"Sock him," Bobby said bluntly. "Show him who's boss, Sam."

"Huh?" Sam said, obviously confused by Bobby's advice. "What does that mean?"

"It means hit him," Dean said, stuffing some of his own hamburger in his mouth.

"Oh," Sam said, realization dawning on his face.

Luckily for Caleb, he ended the game before Sam could actually try to hit him or the hamburger. "Okay, now that that game is over-" he stuffed the hamburger in his mouth. "Mr. Beefhead is sitting pretty tight right now somewhere in my stomach."

"Or somewhere where it's digesting," Dean said with a slightly sickened look on his face. "We've been learning about stuff like that in school. Its _disgusting._"

"Which is why we shouldn't be discussing it at the table," Bobby said firmly. "I, for one, would like to keep my food in my mouth where it belongs."

"Oh, come on! What would be the fun in _that_?" Dean said with a smirk. "Right, Caleb?"

Caleb nodded, around a mouthful of food. "Yeah, Bobby," he said once he had finally swallowed his bite. "Live and let live a little."

Bobby glared at Caleb, but didn't comment otherwise. "So, Dean, how _are _things going at your school? Caleb mentioned something about you having a girlfriend?"

Dean groaned as he punched Caleb in the arm, earning him a punch back. "Dude! Are you kidding me?" He buried his head in his hands briefly as he considered how best to respond to Bobby. "Yeah, her name's Kristen, _alright_?" He said with exasperation. "She's some girl I have in my History class, and she let me sit with her and her friends at lunch."

"Man," Bobby said, with a dramatic sigh. "Who knew that school was becoming so _complicated_."

Caleb grinned and shook his head. "I _know_. Now, all that matters is _where _someone sits and what they wear."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know. I can probably name ten or so tables that are _so _exclusive." He rolled his eyes as if the whole notion was ridiculous. "Its kind of stupid."

Bobby scoffed lightly. "I'll second that."

Caleb shook his head in amusement and drank the last of his diet coke before throwing the can across the room into the trash can. "Score!" Dean grinned and high-fived him. "So, Bobby," Caleb folded his hands under his chin as he glanced at his friend. "Did Dean tell you about my hunt?"

"Which one?"

"The one I just went on."

Bobby shook his head as he cleared everyone's dishes and put them in the sink. "No. What happened?"

"Long story short," Caleb said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. "It was a shifter hunt. Pretty insane, actually."

Bobby scoffed harshly as he sat back down. "Those stupid hunts always are. Everything turn out okay?"

Caleb winced. "Not something I want to go into right now."

"Oh." Realization dawned on Bobby's face. "Classified information?" He shifted his eyes imperceptibly to Sam.

Caleb nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "For right now anyway."

Bobby shook his head, he knew something had to have happened if Caleb wasn't discussing it in front of Sam even.

"He should," Caleb said, meeting Bobby's eyes and shaking his head, telling him without words not to discuss the case anymore.

"Good," Sam said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"And if he's not, we'll kick his butt real good," Bobby said, smiling down at the precocious seven-year-old.

Caleb snorted. "Yeah, definitely."

"Are you going to stay here forever, Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Probably not, but I'll be sure to visit a whole lot."

"Are you sure?"

Bobby nodded. "Yes."

That seemed to pacify Sam who took a drink from his milk cup and then hopped down from his seat. "Jim's been gone too long."

"I know, but he'll be back later tonight."

Sam's face brightened. "Really? Can I see him?" His large, expressive eyes looked up into Caleb's soft ones. "Pretty please?"

"No, bud I'm sorry. Tomorrow you can, though."

He felt the tiniest bit guilty for denying Sam the chance to see Jim, and to turn him down when he had so been looking foreword to seeing him.

"Why can't I tonight?"

"Because you have school and he's not going to be home until around midnight."

"Its just _one _night."

Caleb smiled softly. "I know, but don't you want to be rested tomorrow for your soccer game?"

Sam shrugged, his body slumping in the rejection that he felt. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'll have him come in and say goodnight to you, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Alright."

Dean reached across the table and elbowed Sam lightly in the ribs when he saw that he was upset. "Hey, don't be upset, okay? You'll see Jim bright and early, _believe _me. You know how early he gets up." Dean rolled his eyes at his obvious refusal to understand how _anyone _could willingly wake up as early as Jim did.

"That's right," Caleb said, "he gets up earlier than all of us."

"Maybe that's why he has those dark circles under his eyes," Sam said casually. "Maybe he's too tired."

Caleb nodded, marveling at how smart Sam was at only seven. "Yeah, bud. I think that's it." He ruffled Sam's hair as Sam and Dean both got up to put their plates and silverware in the sink. "Okay," he said, standing up and stretching out the sore back muscles that had acted up from sitting down too long, "Who is going to take a bath first?"

"He is," both of them said at the same time.

Caleb smirked, shaking his head. "Okay, I'll put it this way: Who has the cleanest plate?"

"He does," Sam said sullenly, casting a look back at his half-full plate. "I'll go."

Caleb smiled and patted Sam on the back. "Thank you for doing it so nicely."

"Yeah, yeah whatever."

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Someone's taught him guilt."

Caleb shrugged. "Yeah, well. We'll just have to squash that out of him, won't we?"

Dean nodded. "Bobby, how long are you going to be here?"

"I was hoping I could be here until the end of the month, but I already got Rufus on my ass telling me he needs some help with some Rugaru problem."

Caleb snorted as he put the dishes in the dishwasher. "What, he can't deal with that on his own?"

"Maybe he misses you?" Dean suggested with a sly smile.

Bobby scoffed, putting his trucker cap on. "Doubt it."

Caleb grimaced. "Yeah, he's really not the touchy-feely type, is he?"

Bobby shook his head. "I can count on one hand the number of times he's ever given _anyone _a hug."

"Like you?" Dean said bluntly as he walked out into the living room and flopped himself down on the couch, turning on the TV and flipping to his favorite evening crime show.

"Can it, idjit."

"Wow," Dean said, feigning hurt. "Harsh, Bobby. Real harsh."

Caleb was about to respond, go check up on Sam when the phone ringing cut him off. He gave Bobby a look, wondering who would be calling at almost ten at night. "Hello?"

_Hey, Caleb._

"Who is it?" Bobby mouthed to Caleb, seeing the look on his face.

"Attorney," Caleb mouthed back. "Hey, girl," he said in a normal a tone as he could manage. "What's going on?"

"We need to talk."


	4. Chapter 4

Caleb's heart skipped a beat as he heard Dawn's cool, calm and professional voice over the phone. He had been expecting the phone call, sure, but at the same time, he was in no way prepared for whatever piece of news she was about to give to him.

"Give it to me straight."

He needed that. He needed that reassurance that he wouldn't be lied to, that she would be completely honest with him. He had no idea what to expect from this conversation, but he still had a small glimmer of hope that things could still be okay.

"_Nothing yet. The DA wants to meet with you, though, talk about the DNA testing that they've done and they also have a few more questions for you."_

Caleb sighed as he let his body lean against the counter he was standing against. "More questions? I mean, I'm more than happy to help them with their investigation, but they already talked to me for more than eight hours the other day."

"_I know that. But this isn't going to be like the other day. For one, you won't be talking to the same investigators, and two, they've already done their interrogation-"_

"Which means they already _were _suspicious before and now they're just trying to dig up more dirt-"

"_I promise its not going to be like that." _

Caleb ran a hand over his face. He was tire of talking to the police, he was tired of recounting the same story over and over again just so that the cops could comb over every sentence he spoke. "I know what they're like, okay? My _brother _was going to be a cop. They're building a case, Dawn, and they're trying to talk to me to see if I slip up."

He heard her sigh softly. _"I know its hard, but you're going to have to trust me on this. If you don't go and talk to them again, it will look even more suspicious than if you did."_

He knew he had no choice if she was insisting on it. He desperately didn't want to go back there and face more of their questions, but he knew the ramfications of _not _going, of how it would look to the investigators.

"If they even hint-"

"_If they start saying anything that makes you uncomfortable, then we can leave, but you have to be prepared to face some hard questions."_

He scoffed softly as he glanced at Bobby, who was standing as close to him as he could get so he could listen to the conversation. "Yeah, I mean, this is ridiculous. How long am I going to have to face their questions before they finally leave me alone?"

"_They want to establish an alibi, they want to make sure, that's why they're doing this."_

"Whatever," he said irritably. "Is it going to be in Medina or is it going to be-"

"_No, it will be here in Blue Earth."_

"Great." _One less thing I have to worry about._

"_I'll see you tomorrow around nine-ish? _

"Yeah, great."

He hung the phone up feeling completely powerless and exhausted. He wanted it all to go away, he didn't want to have to stay awake at night wondering what in the world tomorrow was going to bring him.

"What's going on?"

Caleb sighed, running a hand over his face as he looked at his friend. "When I did that hunt, something happened."

Bobby took a drink of his Scotch and looked at Caleb. "This the thing you didn't want to mention in front of Sammy?"

Caleb nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," he gripped the edges of the counter with his hands. "I met this girl and-" he swallowed back the lump in his throat. "She was just a kid, really, and I was helping her and the shifter knocked me out and then killed her."

"And then took your form and killed her?" Bobby surmised with a disgusted shake of his head. "Shifters are always the worst sons of bitches."

"And skinwalkers."

Bobby nodded along to his words. "So what's going on now?"

"Tomorrow morning I have to meet with the DA here in town and figure out what's going to happen."

Bobby stared at him incredulously. "You're seriously telling me that the police actually think that _you _did that?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. I mean," he ammended, "they haven't actually come out and said that, but they've done pretty much everything to convince me of it."

Bobby shook his head darkly. "I hate the cops."

"So do I."

* * *

The next morning, Caleb woke up early to get ready for the meeting and to get the boys off to school. Jim's flight had gotten delayed overnight due to stormy weather, but he promised that he would be back that night. Caleb didn't mind—he was just grateful that he had Bobby there for help.

He sighed as he looked at the clock above the stove and saw the time, and saw how close the meeting was. He wasn't looking foreword to hearing more of the same crap and hearing their accusations. He was sorely tempted to call Dawn and cancel the entire meeting, but he knew that would only add more fuel to the fire and give the investigators more reason to look into him. Sometimes he hated law enforcement, as much as they helped people, he really hated them sometimes.

When he finally forced himself out of the house and downtown and sat down with the investigators, he was cautiously optimistic that the meeting would go, for once, in his favor. He wasn't holding his breath, though. He had always harbored a deep mistrust for the law enforcement, and the way he had been treated so far, did nothing to change his view of them.

"Thank you for meeting with me," the investigator said, shaking Caleb and Dawn's hands and sitting down behind his oak desk. "As I'm sure your attorney mentioned," he gestured to Dawn, "I just wanted to sit down and discuss some DNA results that we took from Miss Branch's apartment, and also clear some things up with you."

Caleb nodded. "Alright."

"Okay, so we talked to Mr. Rand down in forensics and he was the one who conducted the DNA testing around the apartment and," he paused, "around Miss Branch's body."

If the investigator noticed the way Caleb flinched when he referenced Lexa's body and the condition it had been found, he didn't comment.

"No DNA, right?" Caleb said, just anxious to get the hearing over with.

"Not around her body, which is the most important thing. Mr. Rand said, and was very explicit about it, he said that it would be virtually impossible to _not _leave _some _DNA behind. It would be impossible."

Caleb felt as if he had lost twenty pounds as his entire body deflated in relief. He looked over at Dawn who smiled at him, obviously feeling the same sort of relief he was feeling, but more reserved about it.

"Okay, so-"

"So," the investigator said, "the DNA is obviously a crucial part of the investigation, but the sticking point for us is the knife."

And just like that, Caleb's smile as well as Dawn's, fell when he mentioned the knife. He shook his head, feeling the anger course through his veins like lead. "I can't believe this."

"We're not accusing you, we're just trying to get to the bottom of what happened."

"The knife, it wasn't mine, okay? I don't know what you want me to say or what language you want me to say it in."

The investigator tapped his pen on the table, pursing his lips. "Well, see, we talked to Lexa's aunt and uncle, and they saw you with that knife. They saw you with that _exact _knife the day _before _Lexa was murdered."

Caleb felt his blood run cold as he heard the investigators words, and as they sank into his system and into his bloodstream, he felt sick to his stomach. He swallowed back the bitter dryness in his throat as he struggled to form words to what the investigator was saying. It was surreal, to say the least and he knew without a doubt that they more than suspected him, they were treating him like a suspect.

"None of his DNA-" Dawn began, but was almost immediately cut off by the investigator.

"You were seen with the murder weapon-"

"I am not a liar," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "I am telling you that I did not lay a finger on that girl and I will go to the grave with that. I am telling you this. Why won't you believe me?" He finished desperately.

"Because you aren't being truthful, or you're not telling us the whole story."

"You don't know that. You don't know anything."

Caleb leaned foreword, putting his head in his hands, trying to just breathe as he struggled to cope with what he was being told and what the investigator was grilling him with.

"You were the last person to see Lexa Branch alive, and you were also last seen with the murder weapon. The weapon that sliced that girl up-"

"Just _stop_. Just stop this," Caleb said, his voice shaking. "You're trying to get a confession out of me, and you won't get it. I don't care what you do. You know, they told you, Lexa's family _told _you that they thought they knew who killed her and you never looked into it. Never."

"We did, as a matter of fact and Mr. Rodriguez has an alibi backed up by more than two people. Now where were _you _around nine-thirty?"

"I was driving back from a cafe I had eaten at for dinner."

It was a lie, and Caleb knew they would probably see right through it.

"Can anyone verify that?"

Caleb looked down at his clasped hands before looking up and shaking his head. "No."

"Okay. We'll be in touch."

With that, the meeting ended, but Caleb associated that meeting ending with his life ending. He was surprised that they hadn't arrested him on the spot. He waited until he was in the relative safety of the lighted parking lot before letting his emotions get the best of him.

He could feel the tears mixing in with the rain that was pouring down as he leaned against his car. "I'm screwed," he said. "I am, right?" He looked at Dawn, begging her to come clean with him. "I-" he tapered off as he tried weakly to wipe the tears away, before giving up and letting them fall. He tasted saltwater as they slid one by one into his mouth.

"Its bad," she said. "I don't know what evidence they have-"

"But the murder weapon-" he said, his voice catching.

"That's their sticking point, and-"

"But the DNA that's what matters!" He said furiously. "They shouldn't be able to try the case if the DNA clears me."

She shook her head slowly. "You wouldn't think so, but I've seen plenty of cases that've been tried before even without a body _or _a murder weapon. Its rare, but its happened."

"I don't know what I did-"

"You didn't do anything," she said quietly. "I know you, well," she said with a small smile, "relatively speaking."

He smiled.

"But you're a _good _person. I know that."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter apparently."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I really am. I had no idea that this conversation would go-"

He held up a hand, halting her sentence. He didn't want her to blame himself, didn't want her taking that guilt on herself. "Its not your fault."

She nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Thanks for everything," he said as he opened the car door and smoothly slid in.

"I'll be in touch."

* * *

**I changed something in the last chapter. After some thought, I didn't like the fact that Sam knew about the murder when, in my other version, he didn't and was kept in the dark by Caleb for his own protection and piece of mind. So in this chapter, he's oblivious and Caleb is filling Bobby in for the first time.**


	5. Chapter 5

The boys were thrilled when Jim walked through the door after being gone for so long. They weren't used to him being gone on extended trips like he was when he went to Africa, and got his travel flight delayed. Even though they had Bobby there, they still missed him, especially since he was the one that was always there, always present, besides Caleb.

"Hey, Dean," Jim said, giving the boy a tight hug as he set his bags down by the door. "How are you?"

"Good." In truth, Dean was freaked about the DA and their allegations against Caleb, but he wasn't going to mention it. He was going to let Caleb do that dirty task and worry him with it. "I, uh, got a pretty good report card."

Jim smiled, a geunine, true smile. Dean had always been a good student, had always followed their guidelines and had met them, but he had been going through a period where his grades had suffered. Jim and Caleb had chalked it up to after-effects that had been suffered from a hunt gone wrong, and had worked with him on it.

"Good job. I'm proud of you."

Dean glowed. "Thanks."

"Where did you get that shirt?" He pointed at the AC/DC t-shirt that Dean was sporting. "Its nice."

"Thanks. Caleb got it for me at the mall."

"Oh." Even though Jim was a pastor, he didn't mind the children listening to music that most pastors would find questionable. He didn't mind them listening to rock music as long as the lyrics were appropriate and didn't promote anything that went against his beliefs. "That was nice."

Dean nodded. "Why did your flight get delayed?"

Jim rolled his eyes as he bent down to start unpacking his bags. "The airport was being a tad bit _too _cautious-"

"Well, like you always say, there's no such thing as _too _cautious."

"I know, but there was a slight chance of rain and snow in the airport in Denver, and they canceled it, and then the next morning when we were supposed to depart, they said there was still that chance, and we would leave in the evening."

Dean shook his head in disbelief as he helped Jim unpack his things and take them upstairs to his bedroom. "Whoa. That was ridiculous."

"Tell me about it. How has Sammy been?"

Dean grinned—even though his little brother could irritate him, he still loved him and loved being amused by him and hearing the things that came out of his mouth. "Yeah, he's been great. He was hoping you would be back for his soccer game."

Jim frowned. "When's the game?"

"Not until this afternoon."

"Oh, okay." Jim and Caleb both tried to be involved in their school activities and be involved as much as they could in the boys' lives, but sometimes their overly busy schedules prevented them from attending every single sport function or school function.

"Bobby's here." Dean had been looking foreword to Bobby's visit for awhile. He and the older, uptight hunter had been close for awhile, and compounding Dean's excitement over him being there was the fact that he hardly ever got to see Bobby due to both of their busy schedules and lives.

Jim nodded. "I heard he was coming. He get here alright?"

Dean shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I guess. When he got here, Caleb put him right to work." He laughed once at the memory of that and how disgruntled Bobby _pretended _to be about it. In truth, he knew Bobby probably hadn't minded much.

Jim chuckled as he hung some of his clothes up in his closet. "I bet he loved that."

"You know it."

Jim shook his head in amusement as he finished unpacking his things. "You really would have loved Africa, Dean."

Dean smiled. "Really? Was it awesome?"

Jim nodded. "I have to say it was. It was difficult adjusting to the different time zone, but overall it was pretty sweet."

"See a lot of, like, animals and stuff like that?"

Jim winced and nodded. "Yeah, we went on this guided trip out there in the field."

"You mean where the animals actually _were_?" Dean said, his eyes widening and his tone incredulous. "Isn't that kind of dangerous?"

"Yeah," Jim said bluntly, "but we were safe in the car, but I saw lions and cheetahs and-" he chuckled. "A rattlesnake of some kind."

Dean gulped and swallowed thickly. "An actual snake? Are you kidding me? That's freaky, man."

"Its not on my bucket list to repeat, that's for sure."

* * *

"Good to see you," Bobby said, when Jim and Dean returned downstairs and saw Bobby there, wrangling Sam into his seat and giving him his lunch of grilled cheese sandwich and some carrots.

"You too, Bobby." Jim walked around Bobby and gave Sam a tight hug. "Have you been good for Caleb and Bobby and your brother while I was gone?"

"No," Dean said, before Sam could say anything. "Just kidding," he said with a slight grin when Jim looked up at him.

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. "I was good. I promise."

"You better make sure of that before you promise it, Sam," Jim warned softly. "I'm glad to hear you behaved yourself."

"Yeah, what a shocker," Dean said under his breath.

He flung himself into the seat next to Sam and gratefuly accepted the plate Bobby held out for him. He loved grilled cheese and the kind of food that they always served. He bit down happily into the sandwhich and almost missed Caleb coming in from work.

"Want me to give you and that sandwhich some privacy?"

Dean grinned and punched him in the arm. "Shut it."

Caleb smiled before ruffling Dean's hair and going over to talk to Jim. "How was the trip?"

Jim shrugged. "It was really good, except for the whole getting-stuck-in-the-airport thing."

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, there have been times when I've been stranded like that and I'm ready to punch someone by the time its over."

"Yeah, I was close, believe me. So what's been going on here?"

"Just the same crap," Bobby said, coming back into the room and taking a seat with the men. "Got here about six or seven last night."

"Well, I had a hunt that I would rather forget," Caleb said, as he fingered his silver wedding ring on his finger, that even after all these years, still was a constant reminder of his wife and why he had gotten into the life he had.

Jim looked faintly startled by Caleb's words, never knowing him to talk about a hunt like that, and usually expecting him to brag about he had killed some monster, or had narrowly escaped some horrific scene. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Sam," Caleb turned his attention to the seven-year-old who had already finished eating his lunch and was now just listening to what the adults around him were saying. "Can you go up in your room and finish your math homework?"

Sam's face deepened in confusion as he tried to comprehend why he was suddenly being excused from the table. "But I don't-"

"Yes, you do," Caleb said calmly. "I saw it in your bag when you came in. Now go upstairs to your room and close the door for a few minutes."

Sam looked at him for another minute, trying obviously to figure out what was going on, before giving up and doing as he was told. Caleb waited until he could hear the door closing upstairs before going on with his story.

Jim's face was etched in confusion as he looked at his friends. "What is going _on_?"

Caleb took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly until he felt all the air go out of his body. "I was in Medina a few days ago working on a hunt. It was a shifter hunt, and it was one of those hunts that I've done a thousand times before."

Jim nodded. "I know. I mean, you've always said how easy shifter hunts are for you."

"Yeah, because I know what to look for and I know stuff that other hunters don't know because I've been around so many people that know stuff. Anyway, I got into Medina, and I met this girl, Lexa-"

"Lexa, that's a pretty name. Where does she tie into the story?"

"She was the sister of this kid that allegedly murdered their parents. He was awaiting trial on the charges, and she was pretty desperate for help. I had studied some security footage from that night, and I saw the eyes, and how they looked."

Jim nodded. "They're very distinctive, which makes our job a whole lot easier."

Caleb nodded. "I know. Anyway, I was helping her figure out a way to get him out of jail, and I had met her family and I got along with them really well, and um, the last night I was supposed to be there, the shifter reappeared."

Jim nodded slowly, trying to figure out where Caleb was going with this story. "And? You killed it, right?"

Caleb shook his head slowly. "Nope. It happened so fast—it knocked me out and tied me up and then killed her, killed Lexa."

Jim's heart clenched at hearing the pain in Caleb's voice from describing Lexa's death. He knew this girl had to have meant a lot to him for him to be this torn up about her death. "I'm so sorry."

"And then the police, they think that I killed her."

Jim gaped at him, his mouth hanging open as he struggled to understand what Caleb was saying to him. He was an excellent hunter that was ruthless when he was hunting his prey, but he was also compassionate about the people that he met, and was so easily able to make friends wherever he went. He couldn't comprehend Caleb ever killing anyone, and he knew without a thought that he didn't have anything to do with it.

"Why do they-"

"Because they found the murder weapon at the scene, it was chock full of my DNA, and her blood."

"But-"

"And then, while the murder was probably going on, I was trying to find a way to get away from the shifter, but how am I supposed to tell that to the cops? Anyway, they say that they have people that saw me with the knife, and I don't have an alibi that's strong enough to clear me."

Jim shook his head in disbelief at what his friend was going through. "So what is their evidence?"

Caleb scoffed lightly. "Nothing, unless you count the knife and the lack of alibi. They swept over her entire apartment with a forensic team and I let them swab my mouth for DNA, and there wasn't a match. They actually told me earlier that it would be virtually _impossible _to be somewhere and not leave a trace of it somewhere."

"And none of your DNA was found at the apartment," Jim said, his tone laced with the confusion he felt. "So why is this still happening? I don't understand."

Caleb half-shrugged. "I don't know. The cops are still having a problem with the knife, I guess. I've told them over and over that I didn't kill her and they don't believe me."

"Because they think they have their ideal suspect and the damn fools won't look anywhere else," Bobby said, speaking for the first time since their discussion started. "Its sick, but its true. My friend Rufus has gone through similar things, not as serious, but he's still had some of the same treatment before."

Caleb picked up his soda and took a long, satisfying pull from it. "The DA completely lied to my attorney."

"What do you mean?" Jim said. "How did they do that?"

"They said that they just wanted to talk and then we go there and talk, and it starts turning into interrogation part two."

"Damn fools," Bobby said, looking disgusted. "Don't they have bigger fish to fry?"

"You would think. Her family told them about this ex of hers that's been giving her crap, and they barely looked into him, and he's the one with the record and the domestic abuse arrests."

"Does he have an alibi?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, that's the problem."

"But they can't arrest you, not unless they know for sure, right?" Dean said, looking at Caleb with a panicked expression on his face. "Right?"

"Um, I don't know," Caleb said. "They already think they have a strong case or else they wouldn't have talked to me again."

"You can't go to jail."

"I won't," Caleb said with resolution. "Believe me."

He and Dean had always had a tight bond with each other and it made Caleb feel horrible inflicting this fear and confusion onto the child, who had already experienced so much of that in his all too short life. "Promise?"

Caleb's first instinct was to promise him, but he held back because he knew that he _couldn't _promise him that. Not yet at least. Not until he knew that the DA was getting off his back, which seemed like a million years from then.

"I'll try my hardest, okay?" he said instead. "That's the best I can give you right now."

Dean looked up at him with his eyes shining with tears. "Not good enough," he said, his voice cracking. "Why can't you promise me?"

"Because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if I'll have to go or not."

The tears fell down Dean's cheeks as he wiped away at them half-heartedly. He barely noticed Caleb getting up and moving over to his side until he felt Caleb's strong, toned arms wrapping around him in a tight, unbreakable hug. Dean reciprocated instantly, wrapping his arm around Caleb and burying his head in his neck.

"You can't leave."

Dean had always had deep bonds with each of his guardians, but he and Caleb had always had the strongest bond since Dean could remember anything, he was used to having Caleb there every single day and not having him around, was a dark abyss that Dean didn't think he could even fathom crossing yet.

"I don't know if I'll have a choice or not."

Caleb rubbed his back in soothing circles as he continued to hug him, just letting the tactile touch break through to him more than words.

"I can't lose another family member."

"You won't, Dean. No matter what happens, you will never lose me."


	6. Chapter 6

School functions, plays, soccer gams, they all contributed to making Sam, Dean and their guardians feel just the _tiniest _bit normal and not like part of their lives revolved around chasing down the kinds of monsters that people only dreamed about in their worst nightmares.

That night was Sam's soccer game at his school—the kid had loved playing soccer ever since he could walk and he had kicked his first ball in the kitchen, shattering an antique vase that had belonged to Jim's mother. After that unfortunate incident, Caleb and Jim had been forced to set down some ground rules. The number one rule: No kicking the ball in the house.

The rule hardly impacted Sam who, when he first started playing the sport, used to spend hours outside learning the different rules and kicks he could perform. At the end of one coaching session with Caleb, he was able to kick the ball _and _add in a spiral to go along with it.

It was fun going to the the soccer games—Dean loved watching his brother do something that he loved, as well as watching how good and strong he was becoming when he moved around the soccer field with seemingly little effort at all.

The glow on Sam's face after his team won the game, was enough to make Dean, and even Caleb, forget all of their problems, most of which they were keeping secret from Sam, and revel in his victory and celebrate with him on his win. Even if their facade was a tempory, forced one, it was still nice to pretend for a little while that things were okay, normal.

"Yes!" Sam said, running over to the guys and Dean after he had finally broken away from his friends. He laughed when Caleb suddenly lunged foreword and picked him up, tickling up and down his sides until he was reduced to a laughing, giggling mess. "I d-did it!" he said, through fits of laughter.

"Good job, bud," Caleb said, holding out his hand for a high-five. "You did such a _great _job. That last pass you did was excellent!"

"Yeah, especially since Brian Alexander-"

"The guy that needs to lay off the hamburgers?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, him. He was _blocking _me and I went around him and scored."

"For a rookie, you're not bad," Dean said, shrugging as if he was admitting that fact to himself. "Pretty impressive out there."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

He would never admit to anyone, but his big brother's approval meant more to him than just about anything else. He was tired, though and just wanted to go eat some of the pizza that Jim had promised him if he won, and then go to bed.

* * *

After all the excitement of the night, all Sam wanted to do was get tucked into bed and go to sleep for the night. He was ecstatic about his win and rambled on and on about to Caleb as he brushed his teeth and put his pajamas on.

"When's the next game going to be?" Sam asked him as he drew the covers over him. "Soon?" His eyes lit up hopefully as he snuggled his favorite stuffed animal—a plush Pooh Bear that Bobby had gotten for him for one of his birthdays.

Caleb chuckled. "Well, game or no game, it doesn't mean that we can't go out and practice every afternoon. You game?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I am."

"Awesome."

When Caleb returned downstairs after turning on the night light for Sam, and putting on one of his favorite music tapes, he found the kitchen mercifully quiet and empty. Dean and Bobby and Jim had long ago gone to bed, and he was grateful for the privacy and the alone time he suddenly found himself in.

The peaceful silence was all too soon punctuated by the high-pitched, shrill ringing of the telephone. He sighed, giving it a dirty look as he caught it just before it hit it's last ring. He was getting sick of the phone, and all it represented, for him at least.

"Yeah."

He didn't even know he was doing it, but he was holding his breath until he found out who was on the other end of the line.

"_Hey, dude," _

He relaxed when he heard Bill Harvelle's voice on the other end. "Hey, Bill. What's up?" He leaned against the counter, feeling his heart beat steadily returning to normal now that he knew it wasn't another pressing, depressing matter he had to somehow find the strength to deal with.

"_Not too much. I was wondering—I know the last time we talked, we talked about you guys coming to see us. I was wondering if that was definitely a go or not."_

"Um, I don't know right now. I kind of have this situation going on right now, and I don't know when that's going to be over with."

"_Oh."_

He could definitely hear the curiosity and concern in his tone. He hated worrying his friends, but he didn't know how else to let them down without giving them a good reason, and the reason he had was a pretty good one, in his opinion.

"Yeah, its pretty messed up but God willing it should be over soon."

"_What's going on?"_

"Long or short version?" Caleb asked wryly.

"_Just tell me what's going on." _

"Got into a shifter hunt and it turned out to be a pretty uh," Caleb scratched the back of his head. "Turned out to be a real nightmare, and I'm still dealing with the fallout from it."

"_What kind of fallout?"_

"Possible murder charge, because-"

"_Murder?" _Bill repeated incredulously. _"What happened?"_

"This girl I was sort of helping there, was murdered by the shifter that took my form and now the cops think they have their guy. They're saying that there wouldn't be a case if they didn't have the murder weapon and lack of an alibi."

"_Oh, shoot." _

"Yeah, I know."

"_So what's going on? Are you going to be arrested?"_

"I don't know. Probably, but still hoping, I'm still holding out hope."

"_Well, when you know what's going on, just give me a call. Okay?"_

Caleb nodded, even though his friend had no way of seeing that. He was still grateful for the support that he had from Bill. He hung up with him, feeling numb from the thought of something that hadn't even happened. He knew it was probable, and he was trying to prepare himself for it.

Prepare himself for the inevitable time when Dawn would call him and inform him of it. It wasn't something that he was ready for at all. For one, he couldn't fathom the thought of leaving Sam and Dean and making them lose yet another parental figure. It was cruel to do it to them, and it was something that he was hoping against hope didn't have to happen.

He went to bed feeling numb and feeling scared. Fear wasn't an emotion he was accustomed to having, but he couldn't help it when it was his life that was literally on the line. It was a sobering fact to face up to. He tossed and turned the majority of the night as he struggled to put all the thoughts invading his mind to rest.

When he finally _did _manage to fall asleep after many, many hours of tossing an turning, he found his alarm going off almost the second he fell asleep. He groaned as he rolled over onto his back, his hand reaching out blindly to stop the blaring noise from interrupting any more of his beauty sleep.

"Caleb!"

He blinked one eye open and saw Sam peering at him with those large, expressive eyes of his. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at seeing him. He stifled a yawn with his hand as he sat up blearily, and wiped the remaining threads of sleep from his face.

"Morning, bud."

"Are you going to take me to school?"

Caleb shook his head as he got up and moved around the room, getting ready for his day. "The bus is taking you, remember?"

Sam laughed. "Oh, yeah. You think I can take my soccer trophy to school with me?"

Caleb half-shrugged. "Don't see why not," he said as he changed into a fresh pair of jeans. "Why don't you go downstairs and fix yourself some cereal or something."

"Okay."

Caleb sighed in relief when Sam walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He never wanted to be rude or abrupt with the boys, but he needed some space. He took a few minutes longer than necessary to get ready, and when he finally walked downstairs, he saw both Sam and Dean at the table eating their food.

"Did you have enough?" he asked as he cleared away their plates and put them into the sink.

"Yeah," Dean said, his mouth still half-full of cereal and muffin bits. "Sam said that he wants you to get that frosted cereal crap."

"Hey! That stuff is _good_," Sam said indignantly as he stuck his tongue out at is older brother.

"Yeah, and its also full of sugar. You can't tell me that's a healthy breakfast."

Caleb shook his head with amusement, long since used to clearing up their fights by now. "I have to agree with Dean on this one, kiddo. Maybe I'll get it and we can have it on the weekends, but when you have school, you need your brain to be on overdrive, and you won't get that if sugar is resting there."

Sam pouted as he got up and shrugged on his coat and grabbed his backpack off the hook. "Dean, you coming?"

Dean nodded as he put on his own coat and shoes and grabbed his backpack. "See you later," he said to Caleb. "You're working late?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I have to train this new guy."

"Oh. Fun."

Caleb grimaced. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Well, if you want, you can have me come and help anytime," Dean said with a smirk. "Especially during math class."

Caleb laughed. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

He watched as the boys left, closing the garage door behind them as they headed down the driveway to meet their bus. He sighed as he started getting ready for work—taking a shower, packing some of his weapons and making sure that he had enough money on him for lunch. He was about to leave, he had the keys in his hand, when the phone ringing interrupted him. He glanced at the phone and then back at the door, sorely tempted to just ignore the call and let the answering machine get it for him.

His fear that it was Dawn overrided that temptation and he grabbed the phone off the hook before it hit it's last ring. "Uh, hello?"

"_Hey, Caleb."_

He felt his heart race and his hands go just the tiniest bit sweaty when he heard Dawn's voice on the other end of the line. "Hey, girl. What's up?" He sank down into a bar stool they had pulled up to their island counter.

"_I just heard from the DA, from investigator Richardson. He's the one that talked to you the other day."_

Caleb swallowed thickly. "Yeah, what did he say?"

_Please, please be good. Please don't let it be bad-_

"_The DA is going to file formal charges." _

Caleb felt sick, he felt like he was going to throw up. He closed his eyes against the rushing of his head as he felt the tears spring to his eyes. He furiously wiped them away as he focused on the impossible words she had just said.

He was going to jail.

He was going to take the fall for something he had nothing to do with.

He was going to be ripped away from Sam and Dean.

"What kind of charges?" He was half-surprised his voice still worked, considering the bombshell that Dawn had just dropped on him. "What am I looking at?"

He could hear the fear and the desperation in his voice. It was his worst nightmare coming true and he had no idea how to deal with it. Jail in itself didn't bother him as much as he thought it would, it was the thought of leaving his friends, his family, and losing his dignity, his secuity and his liberty and freedom.

"_The DA is filing second degree murder charges. Its not great, not by a long shot but its better than first degree murder, which is basically a 'heat of passion' crime." _

"So what's murder in the second degree?"

_This can't be happening. I can't be talking about this right now._

"_Its pretty much the exact opposite of murder one. Its where you attacked the person, and death was a possibility but nothing that was planned or premeditated." _

Caleb swallowed back the lump in his throat as he tried to concentrate on her words. "So what's going to happen now?"

"_They're giving you an opportunity to turn yourself in peacefully, without a big drama. I can call and tell them what time you'll be comfortable going, and then there won't be a warrant or anything like that." _

Caleb ran a hand over his face as he considered his options. His first, natural instinct both learned and naturally instinctually, was to _run_; to run as far and as fast from town as possible. But he knew as well as anyone, perhaps _better _than anyone else, that running wouldn't do anything but further his problems.

Like a sledgehammer being driven into his head, he was brutally reminded of his heart-to-heart with Jim when they had first agreed to raise the kids together. They were going to raise them as normally as possible, where hunting was a _part _of their life, but not something they constantly had to worry about.

If he ran, he would have no choice but to take the boys with him, rip them away from their friends and their school and they life they had known consistently for almost seven years. It wouldn't be fair, and he refused to subject them to that.

"If I turn myself in, what kind of time are we talking?"

"_It varies. If you're talking about when you would get an arraignment, it would be almost immediately, but when you would get a preliminary hearing sort of depends on what you want to do. If you want to go ahead and waive your right to have a regular criminal trial proceeding, the prelim hearing will probably happen in about a month depending on how backed up the court is." _

Caleb could feel himself shaking with the fear, with the uncertainty of it all. He knew from his brother the penalties that someone faced if they were slapped with a second degree murder charge and it wasn't pretty: Forty years, no exceptions. It wasn't life, there _was _that one small mercy, but it might as well have been.

"I need to think. Can you ask them if I can possibly do it tonight?"

He hated being at the mercy of the law enforcement, but he realized that he had no choice but to be in the position he was in. He needed to get his head and his thoughts clear before he even contemplated doing it.

"_Yeah, but you need to get right back with me."_

He nodded. "I know. I will."

"_Alright, I'm sorry."_

He swallowed thickly. "I know. Its not your fault. I appreciate it, Dawn. I'll let you know."

"Okay."

* * *

**Whoo! Two chapters in one day!**


	7. Chapter 7

Jail.

Not seeing his family, his friends.

Being separated from the boys.

Losing his liberty, his dignity, his _freedom_.

All of those thoughts ran like a never-ending hammer being driven over and over into his brain as he struggled to comprehend the word _jail_. It was so violating, and such a dirty word to him, the place where only the hardened of criminals went. Not someone innocent, not someone that had a family and a job. Certainly not someone like him.

He ran a hand over his face, letting it linger for the briefest of seconds as he thought about the almost impossible choice he had to make within a matter of only hours. He sighed, trying to clear his head that suddenly felt like a thousand pounds.

He shook his head, trying to imagine himself _willingly _walk into a police station and let himself be subjected to whatever form of torture the cops had in store for him, and he couldn't. He couldn't imagine himself just waltzing in there, and he was mad. He was mad at the world, he was mad at the DA for being so stubborn, and he was mad at himself for the position he had unwittingly put himself in.

He regretted ever going on the hunt, now that he was facing spending the rest of his life in a prison cell. He wished he had known somehow, could have had some foresight into what was to come, or he wouldn't have gone at all. He leaned foreword on the bar stool, his elbows touching the smooth surface of the island counter as he rested his face in his smooth hands, trying to gain an ounce of peace even if it was only for a second.

"Hey," Bobby's gruff voice broke through the relatively peacefulness of the house that Caleb had been trying (in vain) to enjoy. His posture tensed as he was unintentionally brought out of the peaceful atmosphere he had been trying to create around himself. "Got some pizza and-" his voice tapered off as he glanced at Caleb, obviously noticing for the first time that the younger hunter had barely moved since he had walked in. "What's wrong with you?"

Caleb looked up at him, squinting from the bright kitchen lights that had, before, been blocked out. He sighed, resting his hand under his jaw as he looked at Bobby, watching him as he put the pizza in the fridge for later.

"Got a call from my attorney a little bit ago."

"Well, what did she say?"

Caleb gratefully accepted the glass of Bourbon that Bobby held out for him. He sipped it, feeling the sting of the alcohol as it slid down his throat. He needed it, needed something to take his mind off the fact that he was contemplating doing something that he swore to himself he would never, ever do. No matter what.

"Said that the DA is going to charge me and that if I wanted to avoid having a warrant put out, I needed to turn myself in. That's _exactly _what she said."

He heard the _scraping _sound of the bar stool beside his being moved aside as Bobby sat down. He didn't know what to feel, he didn't know how to take the news he was just handed. A large part of him was angry, was furious that he was being put in a position where he had to defend his own life, and a larger part of him still, was terrifed. He was terrifed at the thought of spending years and years in prison for a crime that was so horrific and so brutal, and he had nothing to do with it.

"Are you?"

Caleb forcibly swallowed back the lump in his throat as he stared at his friend. "Am I going to turn myself in? I don't know. Probably."

Bobby shook his head. "This is ridiculous."

"Apparently not, or else the DA wouldn't have filed those charges."

Bobby paused, his drink halfway to his mouth before he slammed it back on the table. "What exactly are you being charged with?"

"Murder two, which is basically a lesser version of murder one."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means I'm screwed."

He didn't think he was exaggerating when he said that. He knew more than the average person thanks to his brother, and he knew it was far from okay, it was downright ugly. He clasped his hands in front of his face, feeling the hot tears brimming behind his eyelids as it all slamming into his mind with the force and precision of a hurricane as he realized what he was facing.

_You're not a man if you don't cry_

His father had said those words to him, when after his mother had died from a tumor, he had been reluctant to let his emotions show, to let himself lose it and cry. His father had come in and sat down with him and told him that ir was more than okay to cry, it was _natural. _A human emotion that had nothing to do with dignity or pride.

"What are you facing?"

Bobby sounded hesitant to even voice his question, afraid no doubt about what they were facing, how steep the penalty would be. It had to be troubling for the seasoned hunter who was used to interacting with the joking, teasing Caleb, and not the depressed, scared Caleb.

"Forty years if convicted. Might as well throw away the key."

"Your attorney wants you to turn yourself in?"

Caleb nodded silently. "She said that it would avoid a big drama."

Bobby shook his head in silent amazement, wondering how much possible hurt the family he loved could face. He had known John Winchester for the seven months he had been hunting before his tragic death, and he had seen how confused and hurt the boys had been when he hadn't returned home, and now he knew history was about to repeat itself with Caleb, if the boys lost him to this all too human evil.

"This is your life, Caleb. Are you sure?"

Bobby knew the first thought for many hunters, and for good reason, was self-presevation and he couldn't even begin to fathom the thought that Caleb was going to just so easily turn himself in, give up when it was his life and freedom he was gambling with.

"No. But its the boys I'm worried about. Remember the promise we made with them?"

Bobby nodded silently, knowing exactly what Caleb was talking about. When they first agreed to raise them, one of their first decisions was to raise them normal, to not burden them with the stresses and the horrors of their hunting lives, and to only make it so hunting was a sometime thing, not something they had to worry about every single day.

"This is serious, though. We're talking about your life, not some silly thing."

Caleb half-shrugged.

"Well, let me put it this way," Bobby said bluntly, figuring it was the best way to get through to him. "What's your gut telling you?" Sometimes that seemed to be the most reasonable, and the easiest way to figure out a trouble spot or something that was hitting a sore spot.

"What my gut is telling me is terrifying."

It was true. His gut was telling him to do something that was easily the hardest thing he had ever done, and he knew he wasn't being overdramatic or exaggerating it. He knew his choices: Don't do anything, run and drag the boys with him and rip them out of their school and their way of life, or turn himself in and face the proverbial monster head on and pray for the best.

"And you're sure this attorney of yours can't do anything else?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. She's done everything she can, and they're pretty unshakable right now. What I don't understand is what I did. What did I do to deserve this?"

Bobby shook his head. "You didn't do anything, Caleb. You're a good person, and you're absolutely incredible with those two boys and it shows, because they absolutely _adore _you."

Caleb nodded, his throat too tight to speak. "I just don't get it, then. All I've ever done is try to help people and look where its gotten me."

"Sometimes..." Bobby paused, briefly thinking over his words. "Sometimes life gives you crap, you know that. And its nothing that you've done, its just the way it is."

"I know, but it sucks."

Bobby nodded in understanding. "I know, believe me."

Caleb could feel the tears rolling down his cheek. He wiped them away, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. "How am I supposed to leave the boys? How am I supposed to make them lose _another _person? Its not fair."

"I know, but you have to weigh your options. Do you want the boys to have you and possibly see you get arrested, or do you want to do the kinder option and tell them that you're leaving, and that you'll be okay?"

Caleb mulled over his words as he wiped away at the tears. It was strange even to him, but the thought of prison in itself didn't scare him, didn't bother him like it would a normal person. It was all the things he knew he would miss if he went: Birthdays, holidays and all the milestones in between that the boys would hit.

"You know, it sounds strange even to me, but the thought of going to jail doesn't scare me, not like it does a normal, sane person anyway, but what freaks me out is all the stuff I'll miss. The birthdays, the soccer games, the holidays."

Bobby nodded slowly as he heard Caleb's words. "I know, believe me. I mean, even thinking about it is painful for me. Its hard even thinking about it and it hasn't even happened yet."

"I wish I never went on that stupid hunt."

"But you had no way of knowing this kind of thing would happen. Its ridiculous what's going on right now, and I'm not afraid of telling those self-righteous DA people that, either. You know, most hunters are crazy, old drunks-"

"And you would know," Caleb said with a small smile.

"Can it, idjit. But you and Jim, you two have something really good here."

"We did."

Caleb didn't know what they had now, now that he was potentially facing the rest of his life sitting in a prison cell, mulling over how stupid he was to take the hunt, and how _innocent _he was.

"You still do," Bobby gently contradicted.

Caleb half-shrugged as he flung himself off the bar stool and dug around in the fridge before producing a can of soda. It wasn't his first choice, but he had already had one alcoholic drink and he was hesitant to have another before dinner, or before the boys got home from school and saw him smashed.

"I'm going to do it."

Bobby eyed him cautiously. "You sure?"

Caleb nodded. "Not at all. But I know I have to."

He knew he was taking a gamble with his life, with his _freedom_, but he couldn't see any other way out of the hell unless he faced it head on like he was planning to do. He sighed as he heard the school bus pull up outside. He had no idea what he planned on saying to the boys, but he knew it would probably rate high on the most difficult conversations he'd ever had list.

"The boys are home."

Bobby tilted his head to the side, obviously listening for the same sounds that Caleb had heard. "They are?" He looked incredulously at Caleb, as if he couldn't believe his sense of hearing.

"I have hearing like a bat," Caleb said, as if that explained everything. "I'm just...I'm just going to tell Sam that I'm going on a long trip and I'll be back soon."

It was a believable excuse and something that Sam was far less likely to question. He hated lying to him, but he knew the truth would only serve to frighten Sam and make him upset and that was the last thing he felt like doing to him.

"Are you sure? I don't think its right to lie to the kid."

"Would you rather I tell him I'm going to jail?"

Bobby stayed silent after that, perhaps shaken to his senses by Caleb's biting words as the garage door was flung open and both boys walked in, heavy backpacks dangling from their near frostbitten hands as they shrugged off their coats and gloves and slammed their backpacks on the counter next to the guys.

"What's that in your backpack?" Caleb asked, pointing to the huge bulge in Dean's backpack that hadn't been there earlier in the morning. "An entire planet or-" he tapered off when Dean produced what looked like a vegetable that was resting inside a clear ziploc bag. "Is that-"

"Cauliflower," Dean finished with a roll of his eyes. "Yup. I'm supposed to envision that this _thing _is a human brain and write down all the parts of the brain and if I finish it and have it in to miss Shandy by Monday, I'll get full credit."

Caleb looked at the cauliflower again, wondering how on earth he was supposed to name brain parts off of it. "And you're supposed to do this how?"

Dean shrugged. "Good question, but I guess I'll figure it out. Sam got a note from his teacher."

Caleb looked at Sam at the same time that Bobby did. If the situation was any different, it would have been comical, but Caleb was feeling like doing pretty much anything but laughing at the moment. "Sam, want to explain that?"

Sam looked down at his feet. "Not really."

Caleb smiled softly. "Nice try, bud. Let me see it. Come on."

Sam sighed and got down on his knees to dig around in his backpack for the note before finally getting up and handing it to Caleb. Caleb read the note, his eyebrows creased in concentration.

"Its not _that _bad," Sam said defensively.

"You corrected the teacher?" Caleb said, looking up at Sam. "You can't do that, bud."

Sam arched an eyebrow in confusion. "Why not? She was _wrong._"

Beside Caleb, Bobby was shaking with silent laughter as he listened to Sam and his reasoning for doing what he did.

"Why are you laughing?" Sam said, sounding genuninely confused.

"Ignore him. He's an idiot," Caleb said quickly, moving his stool so that it blocked Bobby from view. "Sam, I don't care if you think you're right, you don't correct your teacher. Period. I'll sign the note and leave it at that, but don't ever do it again."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Fine."

Caleb shook his head in dark amusement as he signed the note with a flourish and dropped the note back in the bag. He glanced at Dean who was busy making himself some lunch. He was dredding this conversation with him, and he knew full well that it would probably be one of the hardest conversations either of them had ever had.

"Dean, after you're done eating that, can you meet me up in my room?"

Dean looked up at him. Caleb could see his face scrunch together in confusion before he shrugged and nodded. "Sure. Be right up."

"Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

When Caleb walked into his bedroom after pacing, pointlessly in the kitchen, he found Dean already in there, lying on his bed under the covers waiting for him. It brought an involuntary smile to Caleb's face when he thought of all the times that Dean, as a toddler, had come into his room when he had had a nightmare of some kind or couldn't sleep because of the tree branches hitting his window because of a storm.

"Hey." He came into the room and walked around to an empty side of the bed and slid under the covers next to Dean, glancing over at him with a small smile on his face. "What's up, kid?"

Dean shrugged and dug out a piece of paper and handed it to him for his inspection. "That's about half of the report I'm supposed to do on the freaky brain thingy."

Caleb took the piece of paper and looked at the neat handwritten notes that Dean had made about his assignment. He nodded in approval and handed it back to him. "Good job, dude. Give you big props for figuring out that ridiculous assignment."

Dean grinned and nodded as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. It was stupid. I don't even know what my teacher was _thinking_ assigning that."

Caleb shook his head and nodded. "I know. I remember one time my history teacher, he was this real stern guy, perfectionist, and he told us to read _Gone With the Wind _and he expected us to get it read in like, three days."

Dean laughed. "That's horrible. So did you?"

Caleb shook his head. "Nope. My parents raised enough hell that he changed the assignment."

Dean whistled low. "Whoa. You got lucky there."

Caleb nodded. "I know."

Dean smiled as he laid his head on Caleb's chest and closed his eyes, listening to the steady sounds of Caleb's beating heart as he laid there, fighting off the sleep that was begging for him to submit to after the long, tiring day at school.

"Is Sam already bugging you about starting soccer again?"

Caleb grinned as he wound his arm around Dean's back. "How did you know?"

Dean half-shrugged. "Dunno. Guess its just my psychic powers."

Caleb laughed. "Maybe. Anyway, I told him that we'd work with him and then he can stay after school to work with the coach there."

Dean nodded as he lost a battle against a yawn that had been fighting it's way up for some time. "Yeah, coach McGreedy. He really likes the dude apparently."

Caleb nodded; he had heard the same thing. He ran a hand over his face as he thought about the purpose for the talk, and how incredibly difficult it would be on everyone involved. He almost chickened out right then and there, but he knew he owed it to Dean to talk to him as honestly as they'd been talking for almost seven years. It was just so upsetting for him, and it made him want to protect Dean from the same pain that he was experiencing.

"So uh," Caleb began, noticing the way that Dean removed his head from his chest and straightened up so he was looking at Caleb face to face as he laid back against the soft pillows. "Remember me telling you about my attorney, Dawn? She was helping me figure out my Medina case."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know who she is." Even though he had never laid eyes on the girl before, he had heard Caleb speak highly of her, and while not knowing her himself, he figured she couldn't be that bad if Caleb trusted her with all of his legal problems, especially with his latest nightmare of a case.

"Okay, she called me this afternoon and-" Caleb took in a deep breath and held it in before exhaling. "She said that...the DA here in town is going to...charge me with murder."

He barely heard Dean's soft gasp as he gaped at him with astonishment before quickly closing his mouth. He waited for Dean's reaction to his initial news before speaking any further about the ramifcations of the charge. He knew Dean was smart—incredibly smart—but he didn't know if he would instantly grasp the seriousness of the news.

"So...what does that mean...for _you_? Is your attorney girl going to file some appeal or something?"

Dean was far from a legal guru but he was pretty sure that in situations like the one Caleb was in, an attorney would usually file an appeal, get the charges dropped. He wasn't worried, he was confident that if worse came to worse, they could just pack up and leave town, settle down somewhere else.

He was no stranger to moving around, switching schools and towns at the literal drop of a hat. He had done it a handful of times with his father before he had died, and only once or twice when he had been staying in South Dakota with Bobby when a hunt had gotten too dangerous for him to go on.

"She-" Caleb tapered off, wondering how he was supposed to break the kid's heart when his heart had already been broken like that before, when John had left him and hadn't come back. He tried not to think of it as history repeating itself, but he had trouble disconnecting from that notion when he thought of what he was staring at. "She can't do anything, Dean."

Dean looked at him, feeling a strange lump in his throat that he couldn't understand. He stared at Caleb, wondering what he meant by that; weren't attorney's supposed to help people? He scooted himself closer to Caleb until they were touching, feeling a sudden impulsive need to be closr to him, for some reason.

"So we're going to leave?"

Caleb knew that Dean would go to that conclusion. After all, John had moved the boys around a handful of times when he had first started hunting, and he figured Dean would remember at least some of that time. He forcibly swallowed back the bile that was fighting it's way up as he struggled to get through the conversation.

"No. No we're not."

Dean propped himself up on his elbow as he looked at Caleb. He couldn't understand what he was saying, what he was talking about. He could feel his heart begin to race, and he couldn't understand it, just like he couldn't understand the strange lump in his throat. "So what does that mean?" He was surprised at how small and uncertain his voice sounded, it was so unlike him to be anything but certain, sure of his actions.

"Its not good."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I—I figured that."

"Dawn, she told me that my only option if I wanted to impress the judge would be to turn myself in."

Dean looked at him blankly. "Do what?"

"Um, you know, let the police arrest me, let them put me in jail-"

"No," Dean interjected instantly. "No _way_, Caleb."

He felt stunned as he stared at him; stunned that Caleb was even considering it and stunned that he would let himself get in trouble for something that he had nothing to do with. He shook his head, frantically trying to clear those thoughts from his head.

"I don't have much of a choice, Dean."

Dean shook his head. "You do. You can run and get the hell out of town."

Caleb shook his head, swiping a hand across his eyes to stop the waterworks from flowing. "Nothing will change, Dean. All they'll do is put a nationwide warrant out for my arrest and if some cop catches me, then I'll be extradited right back here and nothing will have changed."

Dean hated sounding and _feeling _selfish, he hated the way he was feeling, but he would say anything if it meant that Caleb wouldn't leave, that he would stay and things would continue to be the same.

"I don't think you get it, Caleb. You are the closest thing that I have to a father, you and Jim, and now you're telling me that you're going to _leave_?" He shook his head. "You can't."

"You think I want to go? You think I want to trade this for a jail cell?"

Dean didn't think that, he didn't think that Caleb would rather be in jail than be with them, but he was trying so hard to understand why Caleb think he had to take such drastic measures. It was completely impossible for him to understand.

"All I know is that I've lost enough. I've lost my Mom," he could feel himself start to cry and he hated it. "I lost my Dad and now you too?" He wiped away at the tears that were falling hard and fast down his face. "Sam and I have lost enough, we can't lose you too."

"If I had another-"

"How long?" Dean demanded, furiously wiping at the tears with the back of his hand. "How long are you going to get if you get convicted? Life, right?" He may have been blind to certain parts of the legal system, but he wasn't naïve when he knew that most convicted murderers got life imprisonment without parole.

Caleb looked down, avoiding Dean's probing gaze. "Forty years." He felt awful for adding to his nightmare list, but he knew he had to be truthful, especially in that one area, as much as it killed him to do it.

Dean scoffed, looking at him incredulously, feeling a sort of panic course through his veins as he considered the fact that he might be spending the next forty years without Caleb, without the one person besides his brother that he was closest to. "And that's supposed to be better?"

Caleb shook his head. "Not at all."

Dean could feel himself shaking with hurt, with pain and with a blinding anger at the legal system and at whoever decided that he should lose another guardian, another parent. "I'm never going to see you again." It wasn't a question because that's what Dean figured if he left, and got a trial and got convicted. "Right? I mean, if they have enough evidence to arrest you than they have enough to go to trial."

Caleb shook his head. "I don't know that for sure. I'm going to get a preliminary hearing which sort of determines if there's enough evidence and then if there _isn't_, I can come home."

"When is the hearing?"

"It hasn't been set yet. It will be about a month though, Dean. We have to have hope that it will-"

Dean shook his head. "I had hope, Caleb. I had hope that this mess would go away and it would be fine and guess what? It didn't."

Caleb didn't think he could take much more of this conversation. Already, he was close to losing it. He flipped himself off the bed and walked over to his closet, threw open the double doors and reached up on the top shelf for his sheath, which kept a hunting blade that was special to him.

He unsheathed it and stared down at the silver blade lying in his hand as he clutched it tightly and turned back to Dean. He sat down on the end of his bed and gestured for Dean to join him. He saw Dean hesitate before obeying and sitting next to him.

"While I'm gone," Caleb wrapped an arm around Dean and pulled him tight against his side. "I want you to look after this for me, okay?" He laid the blade in Dean's outstretched hand and watched silently as Dean examined the hunting weapon. He could see Dean's entire body tense as though he realized that Caleb really was going to go through with it, he was really going to leave.

"A hunting knife?" Dean looked at Caleb in confusion. "You have a million of these-"

"Yeah, but look at this side," Caleb pointed to the side he was talking about on the actual blade, and watched as Dean examined it more closely. "Are you seeing it?"

Dean nodded slowly as he examined the initials carved into the side of it. "Your wife's?"

Caleb nodded. "She was the reason I got into this hell, and this was one of my first knives I got."

Dean smiled softly. "Really? I didn't know that."

Caleb shrugged. "Yeah, well. Anyway, so when I got this, I carved her initials in and then look at _that _side."

Dean nodded slowly and turned the knife over so he could take a better look at it. "Mine and Sam's."

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, after Jim and I took over caring for you guys, I had your initials carved in there too because you, your brother and my wife are three of the most important people to me."

Dean swallowed hard as he put the knife beside him. "Yeah, I'll—I'll look after it. I promise." He nodded.

Caleb smiled. "I'm glad, buddy. I'm going to want to use it when I get back, and I would hate for anything to happen to it."

"Yeah, that's understandable."

He could feel the familiar panic bubbling up inside him as he stared at Caleb, wondering if it would be the last time he would ever see him again. It made him wish that he and his family could just run to a far off island and never have to worry about hunting, school and all their other struggles.

"I'm going to tell Sam that I'm just going on another long hunting trip."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, he's...he's too young to know."

"That's what I think too."

Dean wiped another fresh batch of tears away as he thought about his baby brother and how, mercifully, he would be spared the same agony that Dean was going through now. At least there was one small miracle in the hell of a nightmare they were going through.

"Please just think about it."

Dean knew his plea was pointless, but he knew he had to try.

Caleb's answer was to wrap his arms around Dean and pull him into a tight hug. Dean instantly reciprocated it and wrapped his arms around Caleb before tucking his head under his chin and snuggling in to him.

"I'll see you soon, I promise."

"When are you leaving?"

"Jim's going to take me there, so when he gets home from work."

"Okay."

"Want to go talk to Sam with me?"

Dean nodded. "Okay."

* * *

When they walked downstairs, they saw Sam sitting on the couch watching some cartoon that Dean hadn't ever seen before. He looked at it curiously for a minute before switching off the TV.

"Caleb and I got to talk to you," Dean said in answer to Sam's questioning look. "You got to pay attention, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay."

Caleb sank down beside Sam and pulled him into his lap. "I have to go on another hunting vacation."

Sam groaned as he twisted around to look at Caleb. "You always do those, though. Can't you stay home? Please?"

Caleb shook his head softly. "I'm sorry, bud. I—I can't. Not this time."

Sam sighed as he drew imaginary patterns on Caleb's hand. "What are you going to hunt?"

"A vampire, I think."

Dean smiled. "He'll knock that sucker's head off in no time and be back before you know it."

Dean just hoped he was telling his brother the truth, and not another lie. He hoped that Caleb's attorney was as good as he said she was, and that she would be able to pull a complete miracle for him.

"That's right," Caleb said. "And then, you and I, we'll have a soccer date out in the backyard. Sound good?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Who will work with me while you're gone?"

"I will," Dean said, before Caleb could respond. "I'll do it, okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay, sweet."

Dean laughed once at his brother's word of choice. "Yeah, it will be."

"Give me a hug, okay?"

Sam nodded and gave Caleb a big hug before hopping off his lap. "Can you call?" He asked, as he sat on the arm of the sofa they were sitting on.

Caleb shook his head, feeling another pang of pain wash through him. It was a ritual they did every night that he was away. "Not this time, okay? I'm sorry."

Sam hung his head. "Okay. But next time, right?"

Caleb nodded. "I promise."

That seemed to make Sam feel better who gave Caleb one final hug and then went off into the kitchen to make himself something to drink. Caleb was relieved that Sam had bought the lie and that he had no worries about the supposed hunt.

When he heard the garage door open, he pulled Dean in for a final hug. "I'll be okay, Dean. I promise. But I need you to believe that, too. I need you to believe I'll be okay."

Dean nodded. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

With that, Caleb got up, shrugged on his coat and walked out of the house, into the garage to meet Jim. Dean tried not to lose it, tried not to have a mental break when he heard the car pull out and down the street.

"Where's Bobby?" He asked Sam, as he happily poured himself some milk, completely oblivious to what was really going on. "Is he here?"

"Yeah, he's downstairs making some calls."

"Oh. Good."

* * *

**Another two chapter treat for you!**


	9. Chapter 9

Dean relished the feel of the crisp, early morning air on his face, and the crunch of the grass beneath his feet as he and Bobby walked out to the back of their property for an early morning workout. The last several days had been an emotional roller coaster of epic proportions for him, and he was grateful for the distraction that a good, clean solid workout would provide.

"Want to stop right about here?" He looked up at Bobby as he set his bag down some distance from the house, near their shooting range. "Or do you want to go further?"

Dean shook his head, half-shrugging. "Hear is—is good. Perfect."

Bobby nodded as he got out several pistols and rounds. "Okay, so I wanted to ask you something-"

"Shoot."

"How does Caleb usually do these workouts with you?"

Bobby had been extremely reluctant to ask Dean to do the workout with him, knowing that he did those workouts with Caleb, but in the same breath, he knew the kid needed to get out of the house and do something that didn't involve sitting and watching the same crap TV show over again.

"Usually...if we do something physical, he makes me do some warm-ups."

Bobby smiled a crinkled smile as he assembled all their weapons that they would be using for the latter portion of their workout. "What kind of warm-ups?" He was trying to keep things as familiar as possible for him, and he knew one of those things was keeping his workouts consistent with each other, he also didn't want to overdo it with Dean, if he was used to one type of workout over another.

"Um, usually just running laps." He knew what Bobby was trying to do by making him give the 411 on his workouts with Caleb, and he was grateful for it. As much as it physically _hurt _to even think about Caleb, he was grateful that Bobby had dragged him outside for that.

"How many?"

"Five, usually."

"Go for it."

Dean grinned—it felt strange on his mouth after the last torturous several days. He hadn't realized how much he had needed to just _be_, to be outside and, temporarily, letting go of any and all stress points.

"Okay." He took off at a steady pace as he ran around the property's edges, mentally counting how many times he had run the distance before finally slowing down and allowing his body to catch the breath he had lost. "That was...excellent."

Bobby smiled, a genuine true smile that Dean seldom saw on the aged hunter. "You can go more if you want, as long as your body feels up to it."

Dean thought about it for a second, thought about how wonderful it had felt to just run and leave all of his worries and devastation behind. Even if the feeling he was temporary, it was a still a feeling that he wanted to hold on to for as long as he could. "Okay," he finally said, deciding that he would deal with whatever punishment his body doled out to him later. It was worth it to him if it meant that he would get a few more minutes of bliss. He ran one more quick lap around the yard before returning to Bobby's side, grin still planted firmly on his face.

"Here." Bobby handed him a bottle of water that Dean instantly uncapped and took a long, satisfying gulp from it, almost drinking half the bottle in his rush to get all the liquid nurishment that his body was craving. "Feel good?"

Dean nodded. "That obvious, huh?"

Bobby half-shrugged as he loaded the rounds inside the pistols they would be using. He was thrilled that Dean was finding so much happiness in something again, even if it was only a workout. In the last several days since Caleb had turned himself in, Bobby had seen Dean go from calm, to flying into a rage at the smallest things, or turn into a sobbing mess the next. It had been excruciating watching it, and Bobby could only imagine the kind of mental torment that Dean must have been going through.

"So, Dean, want to do some hand-to-hand combat first or do you want to train with the guns?"

Dean thought about it as he looked at the guns lying on the ground in perfect order. He loved doing both, loved the feeling of power when the pistol was in his hands, but he also equally loved the feeling of getting in a perfect punch and relishing in that satisfaction that was almost contagious.

"Hand-to-hand," he finally decided. "Let's do it."

Dean threw in a few perfect punches in a row—each punch feeling like a little slice of heaven as he reveled in each turn of his body, and each perfectly aligned punch that made him think for just a second, that he wasn't punching Bobby, he was punching a demon foe that was coming his way.

"Okay," Bobby said, halting the exercise for a minute. "That was-" he shook his head in amazement at Dean's prowess. "That was-"

Dean grinned, feeling exceptionally proud of himself in that moment as he looked at how impressed Bobby was with him. He was used to getting praise from Caleb, but that was because he had only ever worked out with Caleb before. Working out with Bobby was something new, and he was glad that Bobby seemed to have the same mindset that Caleb did.

"Bobby, it's okay, you can revel in my awesomeness," Dean said with a grin, ducking out of the way as Bobby aimed a punch at his arm. "Hey!" He shook his head, feeling stunned that he was feeling so good. He owed it to the workout he was doing. He had no idea how he would feel after it was done, but he was willing to take whatever he could get.

"Can it, Idjit. I have a new idea—its sort of a psychological exercise more than anything, but-"

"Does it involve punching or shooting things?"

Bobby nodded. "It does. Are you in?"

Dean nodded. "So what exactly does that mean?" He was all for continuing their excercises but he wasn't exactly sure what Bobby meant by 'psychological' excercises. He wiped some sweat from his forehead while he waited for Bobby to formulate his answer.

"I just...I just _think _that you have a lot of built up anger in your body-"

Dean scoffed softly. "Yeah, you think?" He gazed at the ground as he thought about the last few days and the memories that Bobby's words had stirred. The first several hours after Caleb had left, he had been in a numb sort of shock, but after that, had come the anger and the pain.

"So I want you to punch me as hard as you can," Bobby continued, as if there had been no interruption. "And while you do, put every single amount of anger that you can, into that punch."

Dean nodded slowly, getting it more. "Okay."

"You got it?"

Dean nodded. "Yup."

"I don't want you quitting until you don't feel anything but satisfaction."

Bobby was desperate to get the smile back on Dean's face, and he knew that one of the ways to do it would be to work with him on something that he _knew _Dean loved more than anything in the world.

Dean nodded. "Okay, come on. Let's do it."

He tried to do what Bobby was telling him—tried to channel all of the anger into his punch, but he knew, and was frustrated, that he wasn't quite getting it. He gritted his teeth, feeling them snap together as he tried to build all of his anger into that one punch.

"Think about how angry you are," Bobby suggested, seeing that Dean was struggling. "Think about how much you want Caleb back, turn all that hurt and anger into something productive."

"I'm trying," Dean said, through clenched teeth. "Just give me a second-" he could feel the power as he let his fist unleash it's full potential as it made contact with his mark. "That was better." He didn't even have to ask, he felt it. He felt what Bobby was trying to tell him, and it made him feel great.

"That was awesome."

Dean could hear the pride in Bobby's voice for what he had accomplished, and he couldn't help the smile that played across his face. "I'm the whip."

Bobby chuckled. "You sure are, boy. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks."

"Want to go get Sam with me?"

Dean nodded. Sam had been spending the day with his friend who lived down the street from them. He eagerly climbed up into Bobby's truck, still riding the exhilerating wave that doing the workout had produced.

"I've been wanting to go on tougher hunts," Dean said offhandedly as he stared out the window at the different one-story and two-story houses that they passed. "Nothing too hard, but just something that's new, you know?"

Bobby nodded along with what he was saying as he changed the station on the crappy radio in the truck. " Hypothetically speaking, what kind of hunts are you talking about?" He would have no problem taking Dean on a hunt as long as it wasn't too dangerous for the still relatively untrained eleven-year-old.

Dean shrugged. "Just like, a poltergiest hunt or something. Like I said, nothing too out there."

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "Have you talked with-"

"Yeah, I talked to Caleb about it and he said he would probably take me the next time he had a case like that." Bobby could hear the undeniable hint of sadness that talking about Caleb produced in Dean when he brought him up. He knew it would probably take some time before Dean was fully able to discuss things that related to Caleb without getting upset.

"I'm surprised you went with me on the workout," Bobby commented as he neared Sam's friends house. "I know that you do those things with Caleb normally."

Dean's nod and answer was too quick, like he was trying to get the conversation over with before he lost it. "Yeah, I know. I just needed a distraction and that was the best one."

"True."

* * *

When they got to Sam's friends house, Sam eagerly hopped in the car, happily chatting about his overnight visit with his friend, and munching on his cheese crackers he had brought with him.

"I challenged Jake to play Mario, and I won!" Sam said proudly as they neared their home. "He said he wants me to come back next weekend for a rematch."

Dean grinned.. "Your buddy can't stand to lose, huh?"

Sam shook his head. "No. He's too bossy, and perfect."

"Ah."

"When is Caleb going to be back?" Sam asked as he nosily crunched down on his cheese crackers. "He _just _came home and now he's left again."

Bobby noticed the way that Dean tensed when Sam spoke, unknowingly, about Caleb being gone, and searched for a way to remedy the situation before Dean exploded and said things in front of his delightfully oblivious brother that he couldn't take back.

"Sam, Caleb just had another trip he had to take," Bobby said calmly, keeping one eye on the road and the other on Dean. "He'll be back soon."

"I know, but it still sucks that he's gone."

_You have no idea_, Dean thought, barely biting back the urge to say that aloud right there in the car. "Anyway, Sam, Jim said something about taking you to that new arcade tomorrow or the next day."

Sam's face brightened as he heard that piece of news. "Really?"

Dean nodded as they pulled into the driveway. "Uh-huh." When the car finally stopped, Dean instantly got out and made his way into the house and up the stairs. He didn't want to be in the room with them, he just wanted to be by himself, and deal with his own personal hell himself.

He slammed his foot into his nightstand, ignoring the burning ache in his foot as he flopped down on his bed. When Caleb had first gone, Dean had been numb to the pain he would eventually go through, and he had been grateful for that. Now, the pain was attacking him head-on as he struggled to just get through a day without having a complete breakdown.

"Dean?" He looked up as Bobby poked his head in. "Can I come in?"

Dean shrugged. "If you want to."

Bobby nodded as he moved further into Dean's room and sat down in his desk chair as he faced Dean's bed. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Thinking about-"

Dean held up a hand, cutting off Bobby's statement. "I don't want to talk about it."

Bobby sighed softly at he looked at the heart-broken eleven-year-old. The kid had lost so much in his young life that it was amazing to Bobby that he was still such a sweet, kind person. Bobby knew it all had to do with how Caleb and Jim had been raising him and Sam.

"I know you don't like talking about feelings and all those mushy feelings, and its not my cup of coffee either," Dean smiled at Bobby's choice of words, "but sometimes it _does _help, Dean. It really does help."

Dean wiped a few stray tears away as he stared down at his hands. "It hurts to talk, Bobby," he said, his voice breaking. "It hurts to _breathe. _Unless you have some idea of how we're going to get Caleb back, then I don't want to hear it."

Bobby nodded as he switched seats from the desk chair to sitting beside Dean. He wrapped a strong arm around Dean's shoulders as he pulled him close. "I think we have to trust this attorney of his."

"I'm _trying_," Dean said desperately, "but she couldn't keep him out of jail so how do we know she won't be able to keep him out of _prison_?"

"We don't," Bobby said bluntly, "but we have to have a little faith or we'll all go nuts until we know what's going to happen."

Dean half-shrugged as he tried his best to absorb Bobby's words, knowing that Bobby was only trying to help him. "The thing is, I tried having faith before Caleb had to go, and it didn't work."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try, right? You have nothing else to lose."

"My sanity," Dean mumbled, as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Bobby smiled softly. "I have hamburgers going, come down and let's eat, okay?"

Dean nodded, looking up at him.

"Okay."


	10. Chapter 10

Only twice in his entire life could Caleb ever remember being truly _scared: _The night he had come home and found his wife, bloody and beaten on the floor, her hazel eyes wide and unstaring, and now when he was standing shackled and cuffed in front of a judge in a court of law at his arraignment. The last several days since he had turned himself in had been some of the hardest days for him—not being able to get up when he wanted, not being able to eat when he wanted, and being confined to a tiny space for the majority of the day.

"Mr. West, you are being charged with the crime of second degree murder, based on the following information in the indictment, that you knowingly and in full awareness of the illegality of your actions, attacked or otherwise harmed Alexia Branch, and those unlawful actions caused her death on July twenty-second of this year."

Caleb could feel how irritated his eyes were getting, and he knew it wasn't because of the harsh lighting. He was close to losing it—four days of no sleep would do that. He could feel a single tear slide down his cheek as he struggled to stand upright and face the judge.

"She was prounounced dead on the scene with multiple, penetrating injuries to her abdomen and one fatal injury to her jugular." Caleb felt himself gasp with both shock and horror at the description of Lexa's death. He had never seen her body, had never heard exactly what injuries the monster had inflicted her with.

_That son of a bitch. That monster_, Caleb thought with barely suppressed disgust as it rolled through his veins. _I'm going to kill it, I swear I will. _He had wanted to avenge Lexa's death before, but now his resolve was only strengthened upon hearing what she had to undoubtedly endure. She had to have gone through hell, and the thought only made him want to break out of those cuffs and strangle the prosecutor and judge that was keeping him locked up like some animal.

"Mr. West, what is your plea that you wish to enter?"

Caleb bowed his head, feeling the terror course through his veins as he realized what he was facing, how high the stakes were and perhaps the most heartbreaking feeling—how he didn't _deserve _to be there, to be looked at like he was a killer. All he had done was try to help Lexa and now he was being accused of killing her.

"Not guilty." He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he officially lost it. He brought his hands up to his face to wipe the tears that were falling steadily. He glanced at Dawn and saw her composure, and how unbreakable she was, and tried to model himself after that during the duration of the hearing.

The hearing wrapped up pretty quick after that: the thirty-something judge gave him his court date for the preliminary hearing—more than a month away—and denied him bond. That was something that Caleb had been expecting, but it was still tough to hear. Dawn had told him beforehand that it was rare that accused murderers were let out on bond and that he would probably just have to tough it out until the hearing.

"You did good," she told him, after the hearing and the lunch break was over and they were sitting facing each other through the glass partition as they each held that annoying phone in their hand. "Really."

Caleb scoffed softly as he looked down at the depresing grey desk his arm rested on. "I lost it in there, you saw it." He didn't mind that he had cried, he would have thought himself an idiot if he hadn't showed at least _some _emotion. "I wasn't all cool and calm and collected."

She smiled once and shook her head. "I didn't mean that. The judge, Scott Strickland, he's fair. He's good."

Caleb knew she was trying to make him feel better with that statement, and he tried to find the comfort in it as much as he could, because he was feeling hopeless. He had no idea how he was supposed to sit in a jail cell for more than a month while he waited for the hearing, it was horrifying to even imagine.

"How good?"

She half-shrugged as she regarded him. "He tries to hold himself to a certain moral standard, and what I mean by that is, that he doesn't just throw people in jail and the key along with it. He tries to dig deep, he tries to look at all the...facets of the case. He also tries to hold himself to the same kind of code as the jury does."

Caleb nodded slowly, as he tried, in his over-worked brain, to absorb her words. "So basically, if he's telling the truth, if there isn't enough evidence-"

"Then he throws the case out."

Caleb nodded. "Its just hard for me to trust that." It had been ingrained in his mind for more than a decade to never trust anyone, especially people tthat had the ability to end his life. "I just can't."

She nodded slowly, understandingly. She had gone through that herself when she had first met Caleb, and had fought for his trust in even the smallest things, the smallest details. It had taken her months for them to finally be comfortable around each other, and another year before they considered each other friends. "I know its hard for you to trust, but you have to try if I'm telling you to trust this judge."

Caleb shook his head. "Dawn, I can't. I can't trust someone that's keeping me here, that can either make or break my life." He wanted to trust her, and trust what she was saying, but until it actually happened and he was a free man, he couldn't go there.

She nodded. "There's a hearing I'm working on getting set up for you. Its not the prelim hearing, but its an emergency hearing. I think if I work at it and gather the evidence that we have, and talk with some experts, we can get a hearing that, hopefully, can end this."

Caleb arched an eyebrow at her. "An emergency hearing? For what?" This was news. She hadn't mentioned anything to him before about getting another hearing.

"A hearing about the DNA evidence, because that will be our strongest defense that, since there wasn't any foresnics linking you to the murder, the chances of you actually doing the crime, is about zero."

He smiled. "So it could end before I have to rot in here for two months?"

She nodded. "In a nutshell. But its risky, Caleb. There's no guarantee that it will work. Odds are it won't, and we'll have to wait for the prelim hearing, but its a shot. I just don't want you to get your hopes up for something and have it not happen."

He winced; he was afraid of that, too. "I guess...I guess I'll just have to take my chances." If there was a chance in hell he could get out early, he would take it regardless of the potential psychological ramifications of that choice.

"I should hear back from the courts tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm also talking to a DNA expert that's been used a hundred times before in cases like this, and he's agreed to take a look at the evidence and tell me if we even have a chance at this thing."

"Okay." He didn't know what else to say.

* * *

The jail had held off on him having visitors until a week after the arraignment. He didn't know why they did it way, or if it was just their subtle way of telling him that they called the shots now and not him. None of it mattered to Caleb now as he picked up the phone to talk to Jim for the first time since he had dropped him off at the jail a week before.

"Hey, stranger," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. "Long time no see."

Jim nodded and smiled softly, feeling the slightest bit relieved to be seeing his old friend again, though he knew deep down, in a small corner of his body that the feeling would be a temporary one, that he wouldn't be allowed to fully enjoy a reunion with Caleb until it was a permanent one. "Hey yourself. How are you?" He was determined to talk normally to Caleb, talk to him like they were sitting outside on the deck enjoying a few beers, no kids in sight and no hunts to bring them down.

Caleb sighed and waved his hand. "So, so. I've been _trying _to hang in there, but its been kind of hard." It was probably the understatement of the century, as far as he was concerned, but he was trying not to think about it, trying to just enjoy being able to sit down and have some time with his friend.

Jim nodded, feeling a stab of sadness pierce his heart when he looked, unwillingly, at the orange jumpsuit and the painful truth that he had to talk to Caleb through a phone and look in on him through a glass partition. It was the most cruel and horrific thing that Jim could ever think of.

"You've been eating and all that, right?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I haven't gone so far down that I'm starving myself or anything, but I've come close. The food here is awful." He shook his head with a grimace as he thought about the jail food he was forced to choke down three times a day. "Makes me dig the hospital food."

Jim shook his head in mild amusement. "Goodness. So when do you get to-"

"Come out of the cell?"

Jim nodded; he had visited jails before as part of his duties as a pastor, but he didn't know the jail's customs or know how much freedom the inmates were allowed to have. He couldn't imagine they were granted a lot, especially accused murderers.

"Um, there's this room that they call the "quad", Caleb held up four of his fingers in an air quotation mark. "And we can all eat there for a certain amount of time, and then sometimes you can go outside and hang out with the other people here, play cards, shoot hoops. That sort of thing." It wasn't the kind of freedom that he was used to, but he was grateful for anything at that point. At least he wasn't confined to his cell for the majority of the day like some of the other inmates were.

"Do you socialize with a lot of people here?"

Caleb shrugged. "Some of the other guys here are okay, but I don't want to get into it with them, just rather keep to myself, you know?"

Jim nodded. "I can understand that. So your arraignment, how did that go?"

Caleb winced. "It was probably one of the hardest things I've ever gone through in my entire life." The stuff that he had seen, the stuff that he had heard, he didn't think he was exaggerating at all. "It was pretty brutal."

Jim slowly shook his head. He was devastated for his friend, to think that he was going through the kind of torment he was going through, and he was completely innocent in all of it. He didn't do anything to hurt Lexa, all he had done was try to help her and now he was paying for it with his life.

"What do you mean?"

Caleb half-shrugged, as his mind replayed the short hearing in high definition, just for his own personal hell. "I was-" he swallowed. "I was cuffed and shackled and I had to hear this jerk of a prosecutor outlining the evidence, and the judge, he was saying all these things about how her body was found, the condition of it-"

"Why would they talk about _that_?" Jim interjected incredulously. "Isn't his job just to-"

Caleb shook his head. "No, he had to outline everything, but it was just too much. I started crying, and I didn't even care. I was done. He asked me to enter my plea and I could barely get it out."

"I'm so sorry."

Caleb nodded. He was done talking about it, though. He searched around for a safer topic to discuss. "Enough about me. What about you? What's going on at work? Anything more interesting than this?"

Jim smiled once, going along with his change of conversation. "Yeah, actually. I think I found my second calling, as a matter of fact," his tone was clearly sarcastic to Caleb, and it brought a smile to his face to think of the normally stoic and serious pastor, be sarcastic and anything other than the person he had known him to be. "As a marriage counselor."

That earned an outright laugh from Caleb. "A _what_? Are you kidding me, man?"

Jim shook his head. "Nope. This couple that's in my congregation—they've been having some problems, and it started with them coming to me to see who I recommend, and it turned into _me _playing counselor."

"How fun," Caleb said sarcastically. "So what happened?"

"The woman, she was either sobbing through the meeting or accusing her husband of infidelity. I swear, the entire time I kept thinking, 'get me out of here, get me out of here.'"

Caleb laughed once. "I don't blame you. I think I would have smacked the girl, told her to keep her mouth shut-"

"I know, she would hardly let the poor guy get a word in. I was tempted to say something, but I just tried to keep a straight face."

Caleb shook his head slowly. "Jeez. So um," he scratched something on his chin. "How are the boys?" It was hard for him to talk about them and visualize all the things that he was missing out on in their lives; it was painful.

"The boys? They're good. They are."

Caleb nodded. "Good. What about Dean?" He knew Sam would be okay with him being gone, he would buy the story that Caleb had fed to him without a problem and go on with his life, but it was Dean that he was worried about the most. He wished he hadn't said anything to him, but he valued their relationship with each other and the honesty it had.

"He's...he's crushed. The first few days, he was all over the place. Either _really _angry, or sobbing. Sometimes both, actually. He's been better the last two days or so, but there are still times when-"

"When you see him freak."

Jim nodded quietly. "Exactly. Bobby took him out training yesterday, and that was good for him. He was really happy that night, talking about how good it went and stuff like that."

"Good. Tell him for me that I'm doing okay."

"Of course."

"And also tell him that I might be able to get out pretty soon but I'm not sure."

That sparked Jim's interest—he arched an eyebrow in question. "What are you talking about?"

"Dawn, she's been working on getting an emergency hearing to talk about the DNA evidence, because she seems to think that the DNA will be the one thing that gets me out of this mess, and she wants to get a hearing instead of having to wait two months for the prelim hearing."

"Does she think she'll be able to get it?"

Caleb shrugged. "I don't know, but she thinks that if she can get a judge to agree to it, she'll be able to convince him to let me go."

"You have to wait _two months_ for that prelim hearing?" Jim said, grasping onto Caleb's earlier words. "That's ridiculous."

"I know, but the court is backed up with all these other cases."

"Are you prepared to wait here for that long?" Jim's tone implied that he seriously doubted it. "Or haven't you processed any of it yet?" He was far from a psychologist but he knew that it would be hard for anyone, let alone an innocent man, to contemplate spending two months staring at a blank wall.

"I am."

"Good."

"What about Sam? How is he?"

Jim chuckled. "He's good, he got to spend the night at his friend's house and he was all excited about it when Bobby and Dean picked him up, talking ninety miles an hour about the video games and the other stuff he did."

"He doesn't know still?"

Jim shook his head. "No. We've been careful not to talk about anything if we think he might be able to hear us."

"I just think he's too young." Sam, at seven, had already been exposed to hunting from the deaths of his mother and father, and through the trips his guardians took, but he wanted to keep him out of the dirty parts, he wanted him to retain as much of his childhood innocence as he could.

"I agree," Jim said without hesitation. "I completely agree. Everyone says not to lie to kids, but I don't think it would help if Sam envisioned you being in jail."

Caleb shook his head. "Sometimes a lie is kinder."

Jim nodded. "Just hang in there, okay?"

"I know, I'm trying."

* * *

**Another two chapter treat! I hope you all enjoy this one:)**


	11. Chapter 11

School, teachers, friend and girl drama. It was normal, it was mundane. It was chaotic, and it was distracting, and Dean needed distraction as he rushed through the crowd of students to get to his math class—the last class of the day. School had been very helpful in getting Dean back on track, giving him that distraction that he craved and giving him his friends to focus on.

"You doing okay?" He looked over at his friend, Mark as he slid into the seat next to him once they had reached their class. "You've been kind of-"

"Rushed? Moody?" Dean guessed, smiling. "I'm good. Just been a rough couple of days, you know?" He didn't want to go into it with him, even though he considered Mark one of his best friends, it just wasn't something that he wanted to go into with anyone. "That's all."

Mark shrugged as he opened his text book. "You know, if you tell me something, its classified. I won't tell anyone else." He glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye, as if he was worried that he would see him snap or start crying.

Dean half-smiled as he looked at his friend. "I know, thanks. My home life is kind of-"

"Screwed up?"

Dean laughed once. "Yeah, you can say that. Now just shut up about it, okay? I come here for a distraction, not to keep thinking about it." He sighed softly as he wrote down an answer to the math problem, and switched to the next one. "Thanks, anyway," he added, feeling the need to show at least some appreciation even though he didn't feel like talking about it.

"Anytime. "Hey, I asked my parents if you come over on Saturday and Sunday and its a go."

Dean nodded. "Awesome. Are we still doing the bonfire thing?"

Mark nodded. "Far as I know."

"Boys, would you like to share your conversation with this class?"

Both boys heads snapped up when their teacher's biting voice cut through their whispered conversation. Mark grimaced, "not really." He ignored the harsh punch Dean gave him for his answer, and instead bent his head low to focus on the problem at hand.

"No, thank you, Miss Lane," Dean said, fixing her with one of his irrisistible grins. "We're sorry for interrupting the class." Satisfied with his answer and how he handled it, he glared at Mark before writing the last several problems down. He was relieved when the last bell of the day rang, and he was able to jump out of his seat and get out of the class.

"This thing gets heavier every year," Dean said, as he shifted his backpack onto the other shoulder when it got too painful for him. "You would think they stuff these things full of rocks or something."

"Or boulders," Mark said offhandly as he carried his own backpack with apparent ease. "Are you going to stay for the game? Or are you going to go home?" There had been a football game down at their high school that the middle-schoolers had been invited to.

Dean had honestly forgotten about the game in his frenzied morning and rushing to and from classes and lunch. When he had first heard about the game, he had been excited about the prospect of going, and hanging out with his friends and some of the older kids at the school.

"Um, yeah, sure. Sounds good. I have to call Jim or Bobby and see if they can pick me up." He didn't see any problem, especially since he knew that Jim worked late on Wednesday's and would probably be able to pick him up on his way home.

"Okay."

Just like Dean suspected, it was perfectly okay with Jim that he stay for the football game, and then he would go home with Jim when the game was over. He grinned, feeling lighter than he had felt in quite awhile as he, Mark and some of their friends chose their seats, their hands full of all the junk food and drinks they could carry.

"Dude," their friend Josh said, grabbing Dean's shoulder and steering his head in the direction of a group of cheerleaders. "Hot, right?" He laughed and made a 'call me' motion to a blond cheerleader that had caught his eye. She rolled her eyes at him before going back to her cheering.

"I don't think she dug that," Dean said, shaking his head. "Get your head out of the gutter."

The rest of the game went smoothly as Dean and his friends laughed and enjoyed the game, and the football players that made each move and each pass seem so effortless, when Dean knew that it was most likely the exact opposite. He had expressed interest before in playing the sport when he got to high school, and seeing the game up close and personal, only fueled his desire to play the dangerous sport.

"Still want to play when we get in high school?" Mark asked as they walkd out of the school and across the parking lot back to the middle school where their parent and guardians were picking them up. "It looked pretty brutal out there."

Dean shrugged, wincing as he visualized all the harsh take-downs and passes the players had done to each other. He knew it was a brutal sport from watching it on TV, but seeing it for himself was a completely different thing. "Probably, I don't know," he said none-commitally as he sat down on the curb to wait for Jim. "Are you?"

"Hell no," Mark said as he sank down next to Dean. "I value my butt too much."

Josh laughed. "And your butt's going to look awful in that tight crap they wear."

Dean laughed and looked at Josh increduously. "Whoa, harsh."

"Yup."

Dean shook his head. "Crazy. Are you going to be at Mark's this weekend?" He asked, turning to Josh. "We're probably going to do a bonfire, camp out."

Josh nodded. "Yeah, duh."

Dean grinned. "Glad we got that covered." He looked up as headlights swam over his face, momentarily blinding him. "Got to go," he said, recognizing Jim's car as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. "See you guys tomorrow?" They both nodded as he crossed over the lawn and got into the front seat.

"How was it?" Jim asked as he pulled out of the school parking lot. "Did you have fun?"

Dean laughed. "One question at a time, dude. Yeah, it was great. And yeah, I had a lot of fun."

Jim's answering smile was nearly contagious as Dean smiled. "I'm so glad, Dean. Is that something you're still interested in?" He had heard Dean rave about how much he had wanted to play the sport later in his school life, and he wondered if Dean still had that same interest after watching the game.

Dean shrugged as he took a drink. "I don't know. Probably."

Jim nodded. "Ah." He had no idea how he was supposed to tell Dean about Caleb and his possible two-month stay at the jail, provided that he didn't go to trial and then it would be longer. He dreaded having that conversation with Dean, and decided not to mention it to him until the morning, he wouldn't ruin Dean's good mood that night.

"How was work?"

"It was work. I saw that one couple again."

Dean grinned as he stretched out in the seat. "The stark-raving crazy girl, right? And her poor husband?" Jim had told him and Bobby all about his impromto counseling session with the couple. "What happened?"

Jim shrugged as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. "Nothing, really. Either she took some sedatives-" Dean laughed, "or she's really herself down. She was better. And for once, her husband was able to get a word in."

Dean shook his head. "You're rubbing off on her."

"I hope so."

"So, can I go to Mark's this weekend on Saturday and stay until Sunday morning?"

Jim shrugged, one hand on the wheel. "I don't see any reason why not. What are you planning on doing there?" He knew everyone in their town, and he made it a point to know all of Dean's friends parents. It made him feel better about it and who Dean would be associating himself with when he went over to their house.

Dean shrugged. "A bonfire and camping out."

"That sounds like it will be a blast."

Dean grinned and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you think?"

Jim sighed as they pulled into their driveway. "Did you already eat?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"What, exactly?"

"Just some nachos."

Jim shook his head. "You're having dinner, Dean."

Dean sighed and shook his head as he got out of the car and walked up the few steps into the kitchen from the garage door. "I already ate." He dropped his bag down on an empty chair and flung himself into the island counter chair.

"Yeah, you ate nachos. That's not dinner," Jim said, as he handed Dean a plate of pasta and some breadsticks. "Eat it, Dean. This stuff is your favorite."

Dean shrugged and mumbled a quick thanks before digging in. The food tasted delicious as he wolfed it down, savoring the taste of each bite as it slid smoothly down his throat into his stomach.

"Thanks," he said as he slid off the chair. "I think—I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Jim nodded as he accepted the quick hug that Dean gave him. "Okay, sleep tight, bud."

Dean nodded. "Gotcha."

* * *

Night was the hardest time for Dean because it gave him time to _think_ and that was something that he tried to avoid at all costs; thinking about Caleb was painful, something that he tried to avoid, and it was unavoidable when he had nothing to do but stare up at his ceiling at night, trying desperately to fall asleep.

_This shouldn't be happening_, he thought as he furiously wiped away the tears that were falling down his face. He didn't know why he bothered wiping the tears away—it wasn't like anyone could see them now when he was alone. _Why is this happening to him? _His mind screamed at him as he rolled over onto his side and curled up.

What he wanted to know was who decided that it was okay for him to lose someone else, that it was okay for him to lose yet _another _guardian and a figure that was the closest thing he had to a dad.

_He doesn't deserve it_, his mind whispered tauntingly to him. _He never should have gone on that hunt,he wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't gone. _Dean knew all of that, that was one of the major sticking points for him—that if Caleb had turned the hunt over to another hunter, he would still be with them and wouldn't be sitting in a dark and depressing cell.

He was half-surprised he managed to fall asleep in the midst of his mind putting him through the emotional wringer. When he stumbled down the stairs, he saw Jim and Bobby already up and making pancakes and eggs.

"Hungry?" Bobby asked, looking over as Dean took a seat at the table. "It's almost ready."

Dean nodded. "Sure." He stifled a yawn behind his hand as Bobby gave him his plate. "Thanks."

"Rough night?" Jim guessed as he slid into his seat.

"Couldn't really sleep," Dean mumbled. "Nothing new. Where's Sam?"

"Bus picked him up early," Bobby said, half a piece of bacon hanging off his mouth. "And believe me he was thrilled." He rolled his eyes as he finished his plate.

Dean grinned. "Geek." He had never met another kid that was so enthused about school like Sam was. It was slightly disturbing to him.

Bobby chuckled as he poured some ketchup over his scrambled eggs. "He was all excited about turning in some paper of his."

"The math paper." Dean had watched his brother study for it after school and before bed. "Safe to say he was obsessed."

Jim chuckled. "He does put in that extra effort, doesn't he?"

Dean nodded. "You _think_?"

"Dean." Dean looked up at Jim, surprised at his hesitant, unsure tone. It wasn't like the usually sure and confident pastor. "There's..." he exchanged a look with Bobby, one that Dean didn't like at all; like they were trying to figure out a way to tell him a piece of bad news. "I saw Caleb yesterday before work."

"Y-you did?" Dean felt his heart rate shoot up as he heard the first piece of news about Caleb since he had left. "How is he?" He hated how small and uncertain his voice sounded, like he was about to break down again.

Jim exhaled deeply before smiling, though Dean could tell the smile was tight, like he was about to deliver bad news, he looked from Jim to Bobby and saw nothing but the same forced, calm expressions on their faces.

"He's good, Dean," Jim said quietly. "He wanted me to tell you that. He's doing okay."

Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "Did he say anything about when he might get out?"

Jim nodded, looking down at his clasped hands before shifting his expression to Dean. "Dawn's working on getting him an emergency hearing that would take a closer look at the DNA evidence, she's hoping that the lack of forensic evidence against him will clear him on the spot."

Dean nodded slowly. "So when's the hearing supposed to be?" He asked as he set his plate on the counter. "Soon, right?" He turned his back to the counter, leaning against it.

"Well," Jim cleared his throat. "The thing is, Dean, she's not sure she can get the hearing yet. It's a big _if_. She's hoping that she'll be able to, but she's not sure."

"And this hearing could clear him?"

Bobby and Jim both nodded silently. "Yeah."

Dean looked down at his feet as he considered what he had just been told. He wanted Caleb back more than anything in the entire world, and he knew what Caleb was facing with a murder charge, but he still had hope that he would be back and things would go back to normal.

"So if the hearing gets shot down, then he only has a month to wait for the prelim hearing, right?"

Jim shook his head, wishing he was doing anything other than breaking this news to Dean. He felt like a monster for adding more hell to the kid's load but he knew he couldn't be dishonest with him about this. "The court is so backed up with other cases, that it's probable that it will be at least two months before he gets the hearing."

Dean wasn't even aware that his mouth had popped open until he found himself closing it again. He felt panic welling deep within a corner of his heart as he stared increduously at his guardians, looking for any contradiction in their expressions that what they had just told him had been a cruel, awful joke.

He didn't find any contradiction.

"Two _months_? He has to wait two _months _to get that hearing?" He crossed the room until he was standing next to Jim and Bobby again, looking at them with a torn expression on his face. "Why, I-I don't-" he could feel the different emotions swirling around deep inside him. "This can't happen. He can't be gone that long."

"Dean," Jim said softly. "There's nothing that we can do. It wouldn't be fair for the courts to cancel the other people's hearings just so Caleb can get moved to the front, it wouldn't be fair."

Dean scoffed, feeling a reckless rage consume him and he absolutely hated that feeling as he fought to keep himself under control. "No, its fair because those people _deserve _to be there, and Caleb doesn't! He didn't do anything to that girl and now he has to sit and _rot_?"

He furiously swiped his arm across his eyes, feeling a complete and utter sense of panic consume him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, it was devastating and it was so frustrating.

"Dean, why don't you stay home today," Jim said calmly. "I'll call the school, tell them that you're not feeling good and we'll do something today. I get off of work early and then we'll go do something-"

"I want to see Caleb."

Dean knew what a visit like that would likely do to him, but he didn't care. It had been more than a week since he had last seen him and that was too long in his view, he wanted to catch up with him, be reassured that things would be okay.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now," Bobby said cautiously, "I think that we need to think-"

Dean shook his head instantly. "No. I want to see him. Not in a month, not in a week. I want to see him now."

"Dean, where Caleb is," Jim said carefully, "you can't touch him, you can't hug him. All you can do is talk to him through this telephone and look in on him." He hated this. He hated seeing the normally carefree kid be so devastated and so upset. "It won't be like what you're thinking."

It was too much for Dean to bear, he could feel the tears slide down his cheek as he sank down into a chair by Bobby. He could feel the hunter's rough hand on his back as he gently rubbed it.

"Why won't they let you hug him?"

"Because they don't want anyone sneaking something into him," Bobby said. "Its for their own good, and yours."

"Why did he have to take the hunt?" Dean could feel himself shaking, could feel the sobs building in his throat. "W-why d-didn't som-someone else take it?" He would hate to see _anyone _in the kind of situation that Caleb was in, but he would prefer it that way if it meant that Caleb wouldn't go through it.

"Dean, you know Caleb. He's done these hunts a hundred times before and _nothing's _happened," Jim said. "He had no reason to think anything would be different this time."

"B-but some-something _did _ h-happen t-this time and now he's gone!"

"Dean, we had no way of knowing this would happen. The shifter hunts, those are the easiest ones for Caleb, and things happen. They happen all the time."

"N-not like this."

Bobby nodded softly. "I know. I know."

"I want to see him."

Jim nodded. "Okay, I'll talk to Caleb about it and see what he thinks."

Dean nodded. "O-okay." He knew he would have to satisfy himself with that for now. Even though he could feel his heart breaking, he knew he would have to be okay with what he was given for now.

* * *

**Poor Dean): Next chapter up tomorrow! **


	12. Chapter 12

Jim tried to ignore the sickening roll and jolt of his stomach when he walked through the large (and imposing) metal detectors stationed directly in the entrance to the jail, and more importantly tried in vain not to think of it as the place he was visiting his dear, _innocent _friend. The jail was cold, impersonnal and someplace that Jim shuddered to even _visit—_he couldn't imagine having to live there twenty-four seven like Caleb and all the other inmates there.

More startling still, and it was something that Jim was _sure _he would never get used to, was the fact that in order to have any sort of access to his friend, he had to empty out his pockets—keep his wallet, keys, all of his personal possessions at the front desk. The security measure, while understandable, was sobering and all that much more depressing and real.

"Hey, you." He forced a smile on his face when he saw Caleb finally, he tried to forget the horrific mental images his mind was projecting and just focus on his conversation with his friend, and forget everything else. "What's new?"

Caleb shrugged, waving one hand in the air as he gripped the phone and laid his arm on the grey desk that was in front of the glass. "Not much," he scratched something on his chin as he looked at his old friend, wishing more than anything that he was on the other side of that glass and going home with him. "I talked to Dawn this morning."

Jim's warm, jovial smile slipped a little when he heard the hesitancy and the nervousness in Caleb's tone—he could only assume it wasn't anything good, and that thought filled him to the brink with dread as to what could be wrong _this _time. "And? What did she say? Did the hearing-"

"Got shot down," Caleb quietly interjected. "She...just heard this morning." He hadn't fully wrapped his brain around what that meant, that it meant that he would probably be spending the next two months in a jail cell while he waited for the infuriating prelim hearing.

"It _what_?" Jim said slowly, incredulously. "How-" He had a million questions and concerns running through his brain that he was shocked that his head wasn't exploding into pieces in that instant.

Caleb half-shrugged. "I don't k-know." Jim could hear the definite break in Caleb's voice and how it shook with fear or frustration, Jim couldn't tell, probably both. He heard Caleb take a deep breath before he resumed his statement. "Dawn said s-something about there being too much evidence, too much doubt or something-"

"So you have to sit here for two _months_? While this hearing gets put together?" Jim said furiously. "In what world is this fair?" He was furious that the legal system was being so difficult, and seemed bound and determined to torture him with their stubborness and keeping him locked up.

Jim didn't miss the physical shudder that ran through Caleb's spine at his words, and he felt bad for bringing those particular words up. He sighed deeply, running a hand along the bottom of his face as his mind played a running list of what this news would mean, the consequences it would have.

"I don't know. She mentioned something about appealing, b-but she doesn't-" Caleb couldn't finish his sentence as the weight of what had happened overwhelmed him and slammed into him like an avalanche, he half-heartedly wiped at the tears that were falling down his cheeks, but he knew that it was a lost cause.

"She doesn't think an appeal will fly?"

Caleb shook his head. "No. She's trying everything but she keeps getting shot down." He had heard other hunter friends of his talking about her and how good she was, he knew it wasn't anything she had done, it was just the judge and the DA making things harder than they needed to be.

"There has to be something-" Jim began desperately, but cut himself off when he saw Caleb shaking his head. "You really don't think there's anything that Dawn can do?"

"No, I just have to somehow survive until the prelim and then _pray _that, by some miracle, a judge will let me go." He had no idea how he should feel about the upcoming preliminary hearing—hopeful or hope_less_. "She said that the delay would give her more of an opportunity to build the case up."

Jim nodded slowly, definitely seeing the good in that part, but he was still infuriated that the hearing had gotten shot down, that his friend had to sit in a cell for two months to wait for the next hearing. He hoped that Dawn knew what she was doing, that she was mounting a strong enough defense to override what the prosecution would say against him. "What are your thoughts on all this?" He asked quietly.

His heart clenched painfully when he saw the tears slide down Caleb's face, expressing how much pain his friend was going through better than words could. "I just...I just wonder how I'm supposed to survive here for another two months."

Jim shook his head slowly. He had no idea what it felt like to be wrongly accused of murder, and then be jailed for that offense and have to spend time there _knowing _that you didn't do anything wrong, but he knew it was a feeling he would rather do without.

"You'll be okay, Caleb," he said firmly but adamantly. "You will be. You're one of the strongest guys that I know. You'll beat this." He had to give his friend some hope, he had to make him see a bright side to all of this and make him see that illusive light at the end of the tunnel.

"I don't know." Jim's heart broke at hearing how broken and beaten down Caleb sounded. "I don't know how I'm supposed to survive this, Jim. I haven't slept in, I don't know how long, and the days just keep getting longer and _longer_-"

"You haven't slept? At all?"

Caleb shrugged. "I'm lucky if I get an hour now. Night's the worst time because all I have to do is _think. _I can't get up, I can't do anything other than lie down in that cot and think."

"I'm so sorry, Caleb."

"Its not your fault."

"I know that, but I still feel awful that you're going through this hell and I can't do anything to stop it." It was true—he would do anything if it meant that things could go back to the way they were, if time could somehow reverse itself, or if they could all wake up and have the last few weeks be a horrible nightmare.

Caleb could feel himself literally _panicking _at the very _idea _of spending two, tortorous months in jail waiting for a hearing that could either clear him or hold him over for trial. He was terrified of spending more time behind bars, and even more terrified of more sleepless nights, and more of the same uncertainty, and fear. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear away the tears as much as he was trying to clear away the fear that was gripping him like a vice, not letting him go.

"I want to be out of this hell-hole so bad it _hurts. _Every time I see you walk out of here, it makes me want to go so bad. I would give anything if this all just went away."

"Hey, I know that. I know. I mean, I don't _know_, know but I have an idea-"

"And then the boys—every time I think about them, about what they're doing, I can't stand it. I've _never _gone more than a day _ever _without talking to them. When I'm not with them, I'm talking to them on the phone or _whatever._"

The hardest part of his jail time besides losing his freedom, was the fact that he was cut off from Sam and Dean for the first time since he had started raising them. For almost seven years, he had been a daily, unmovable fixture in their lives, and now it was like adjusting to life without walking, without breathing. Not having them was almost as painful as being _there_, in the jail.

"They're okay, Caleb. They are-"

"I always call them when I'm gone and now? How am I supposed to explain _this_ to a seven-year-old?"

"Sam's okay. He misses you but he just thinks that you're on a hunt and that you'll be back soon."

Caleb nodded slowly, trying to calm himself down before he completely lost it. He could feel the tears falling down his face and he knew that he was powerless to stop them when he was that upset. "I miss them more than anything in this _world_."

"Dean wants to see you," Jim said quietly. "He was pretty clear about that actually, this morning."

Caleb shook his head. "No. Not like this, Jim." The very last thing he wanted was for Dean to come in there, and see him like that. He would rather be separated from them than have Dean see him like that and not be able to hug him, not be able to feel any sort of reassurance from him.

Jim was at a loss for how he was supposed to tell Dean that the hearing had gotten shot down, he had no idea how he was supposed to break that news to the kid who had already been put through the emotional wringer the last two weeks because of the nightmare they were going through.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to tell Dean this," he said, deciding to voice his concerns, maybe get some insight, too. "He was so hopeful about this hearing and you getting off."

Caleb nodded, his throat tight. "I don't know what to say, I just know that I love both of those boys too much for them to see me like this even though I would give my right arm to be able to spend time with them right now."

Truth be told, it would be the _only _bright spot in a world that was looking increasingly darker as the hours and days went on, but he could only imagine how confusing it would be for a seven-year-old to see him, but not be able to play with him or have any sort of meaningful contact with him.

"I can talk to Dawn, see if she can convince the people here to let me talk to him on the phone, or let me see him in a room or something." Those were the only options that Caleb could think of that, while upsetting, wouldn't be nearly as bad if Dean had been visiting him like Jim was.

"Okay, just—just hang in there, okay? It will be over soon."

"I hope so."

* * *

"Hey, Dean." Dean looked up from the Disney movie he and Sam had been watching—it wasn't his first choice, but he also realized that he hadn't spent too much quality time with Sam lately, and wanted to make up for it, even if it involved watching a cheesy cartoon.

"Yeah?"

"Want to come in here and take a look at this?" Bobby said, gesturing to the stack of papers that he had been sorting through for the last hour. Dean was sure that it involved a case, but he couldn't be sure.

"Sure." Dean flung himself off the sofa and walked the short distance into the kitchen where Bobby was. "What is it?" He glanced down at the papers, and sure enough, saw more than enough preliminary evidence to suggest a hunt. "Spirit?" The thought filled him with some measure of excitement because he knew those were the types of hunts he could go on, that he had been trained to handle.

Bobby nodded, letting a small smile creep up on his face as he heard the rare excitement creep into Dean's tone—the kid had been devastated, and Bobby had searched for something to cheer him up for awhile. "Its actually a poltergiest."

Dean did a double-take as he looked at the older hunter. He had wanted to go on one of those hunts for awhile, but hadn't had the chance, but he remembered Caleb's promise to him that he could go with him the next time he had one. "Really? I can go?" He knew there was more training that went into successfully catching and killing a violent spirit like that, but he knew he was up for the challenge of it.

Bobby nodded. "If Jim says you can, and if you can do the training that we need to get you caught up on." He knew the last requirement would be no problem for the active eleven-year-old who lived and breathed training and preparing for hunts.

"Okay, yeah, no problem."

Bobby chuckled. "Good." He didn't think he would have any problem convincing Jim to let him go on the hunt with him—the pastor hadn't shown any hesitation about it when he had brought it up with him in passing that morning.

Dean was about to respond, urge Bobby to come with him downstairs to start the all too important training, when the garage door opened, signaling Jim's return. When Dean looked at the clock above the stove, he saw that Jim had been late again, he knew where Jim had been—seeing Caleb again. He hoped that Jim was going to bring him good news, news that he could either see Caleb or that his hearing had gone through.

"Hey," Dean said, when the door leading into the garage opened and Jim walked in, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. "Where've you been?"

"Errands," Jim said with a grimace. "Lots and lots of errands." He dumped three or four grocery bags on the table for emphasis as he started putting the food he had bought, away. "What have you been doing? Did you have a good day?" He asked, glancing back at Dean as he closed the pantry door.

Dean shrugged as he situated himself at the island counter, his hand resting under his chin. "It was alright. Nothing special." He didn't mention that he had spent half the morning crying, or that he had come close to calling Jim home from work. It wouldn't do any good to dwell on that now, he figured.

"Okay, hamburgers sound good?"

Dean nodded. "Are they on the grill?"

Jim nodded. "You bet."

Dean smiled tentatively. "Awesome. So Bobby mentioned a hunt I could maybe go on?" He watched Jim for his reaction closely. Jim had never objected to Dean going on hunts before, but that had been because they had been easy spirit hunts—he knew a poltergiest hunt upped the ante just a little bit.

"Yeah, Bobby mentioned that to me." Jim looked over at Bobby, then. His eyebrows raised. "Is it a go, then?" Bobby's answering nod was the only source of confirmation that Jim needed as he gathered up the supplies to make hamburgers. "Is it a small one?"

"Well," Bobby looked uncomfortable. "When is a hunt _ever _really small?"

"Dean-"

"I can do it," Dean said quickly. "Please?"

Jim sighed, not particularly liking the fact that Dean would be put at risk from this hunt, but he knew that it was an important skill builder and something that he needed to learn sooner rather than later. "Bobby, you train him and let me tell you something—you don't stop until you make sure he gets it."

Bobby scoffed and nodded. "What do you think I am?"

Jim didn't answer as he slid the sliding glass door to the deck open and opened up the grill. "I'm not saying I don't trust you because I do, its just the whole thing makes me uneasy."

"But I can go?" Dean persisted. "Right?"

Jim nodded, seemingly uneasy. "Yes."

Dean grinned, fist-pumping the air. "Awesome!" His happiness and joy over doing something that he loved, filled Jim himself with a momentary rush of the same kind of happiness until he remembered with a cruel jolt the inevitable conversation he had to have with him regarding Caleb.

"Dean?"

Dean looked over at him, curiosity filling his expression. "Yeah?"

"We have to talk. About Caleb."


	13. Chapter 13

Dean's exultant, victorious smile vanished, replaced by a confused, apprehensive look as dread swirled somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach before lodging itself firmly somewhere in the region of his Adam's apple. He tried as hard as he could _not _to think about Caleb, it was easier that way. Hearing from Jim that they had to "talk" about him increased his anxiety, and made him feel a dull ache in his stomach that was rapidly mixing in with the steady throbbing of his heart.

"What's going on?" He asked quietly, leaning against the steady railing around the raised deck around the back of their property. "What-" he didn't know what would make Jim look like he would rather be doing anything, be _anywhere _other than talking to him right then, giving him whatever piece of news he was about to give him. It only increased his nervousness as he searched around for an exit, to avoid hearing another slice of hell that he was _sure _he wouldn't be able to handle, let alone process.

"Caleb talked to Dawn, Dean, about the hearing," Jim said softly, one hand gripping Dean's shoulder, the other resting on the glass table they had outside on their deck.

"Really?" Dean couldn't keep the note of hopefulness out of his tone as he swiveled around in his seat to look at Jim. He knew the possibility of the hearing happening was a longshot at best, but that didn't stop him from hoping—it was truthfully the only emotion he _could _feel that didn't make him want to crumble. "When is it going to be? Can I-" there really was no question in his mind but that the hearing _would _happen. He simply couldn't understand why a judge _wouldn't_ have it, wouldn't want to set an innocent person free. He knew, of course, that it was more complicated than that, but he couldn't stop the thought that it was a judge's job to seek the truth, to deliver true justice.

"Dean." He stopped his excited rambling at once when Jim's voice broke through his sentence. "The hearing, its uh," Jim's grip tightened noticeably on his shoulder, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the eleven-year-old, who felt a physical shudder pass through his spine, knowing that _something _was up, and it filled him to the brink with dread. "Its... not going to happen."

A stunned sort of shock filled his veins, making him feel numb, as every single crevice of his body and soul went into complete devastation and shock. He had been so sure that Caleb would get the hearing and would be set free that, in his overly excited mind, there hadn't been much room to contemplate the very real possibility that the hearing wouldn't even _happen_. The annoying irritation behind his eyelids was the only real physical symptom of what he had just heard, the rest was purely emotional as he felt like he was on the verge of losing his mind, breaking down.

"Why?" He asked quietly, feeling his blood run cold and an ice cold shudder flash down his spine at the news that he had been dreading and hoping with his whole heart would _not _happen. "What did the judge say?" No matter the judge's reasoning for not allowing the hearing to go through, he was infuriated that the judge wouldn't at _least _hear arguments from the defense, and hopefully end their hell on earth.

"He said something about there being too much evidence," Jim said calmly, glancing over at Bobby who was seated at the table, watching their conversation like he was watching a tennis match. "Too much doubt."

Dean scoffed, feeling a reckless rage beginning to overcome him, battling for dominance with the devastation that had already planted itself firmly in his body and soul. "What _evidence_?" He knew about the blade and the blood DNA on it, but he had been told several times that the most important DNA that could be used to convict him, wasn't there; at all.

"The forensic evidence," Jim said slowly, as if he was nervous about saying the wrong thing that would only serve to upset the kid more than he had already been upset. "The blade-"

Dean shook his head in complete astonishment, feeling his eyes water and a tear or two slide down his cheeks. "I-" he shook his head again, raising a hand to make a half-hearted attempt to wipe the tears away. "That's _ridiculous_," he finally managed to get out. "Because of that knife, a judge is keeping him in that place?" It seemed unfathomable to him that because of one knife, Caleb was being kept in that man-made hell hole.

"He just said there was too much doubt and too many questions to be covered in one hearing." It broke Jim's heart clean in two to see the amount of pressure and stress the normally happy kid was being put under, all because the DA was _deciding _to be difficult, was _deciding_ to be stubborn about this.

"He can't be there for two months. He just—he just can't." Dean could feel the irksome tears pushing and shoving their way out of his eyes as his body reacted physically as well asemotionally to the news he had just been handed. "He didn't do anything wrong!" It would have been different, he reconciled, if Caleb had done something to deserve it, but he hadn't. All he had done was try to help that girl and now he was in lockup.

"Dean, there's—there's nothing that we can really do," Jim said gently, "he's in a locked facility with guards, we couldn't break him out, it would be almost impossible." That _had _been a consideration of Jim's when the idea had first struck, but he knew the odds of a successful breakout were slim to none.

Dean could _feel_ his heart breaking—a heart that had seen and felt so much loss in his all too short life with the death of his parents, and now this. He had been too young to know what was really going on when his mother and father had died, had only known the confusion and the fear. But this was an all too human monster that Dean had the misfortune of remembering perfectly.

The thought of sitting in a cold jail cell, waiting for the next hearing just filled him to the brink with devastation and a longing for Caleb to be home and have this all be over finally. "It's not fair," he cried, losing the battle with the tears as they fell down his face. "He shouldn't be there, he didn't do anything."

"I know, Dean," Bobby said softly, trucker cap firmly planted on his head. "But what do you want us to do? We can't just waltz in there and say that a shifter did it, we'd be in the rubber room so fast you wouldn't be able to blink."

_The hunt was too much for one person to take on, _that cruel, taunting voice whispered in Dean's ear. _He should have had backup. _Dean gritted his teeth together, feeling them snap as he fought the battle with his mind, trying to clear away thoughts that he _knew _he couldn't do anything about.

"Shut _up_," he whispered, feeling close to the breaking point as he gripped the edges of the table with a brute like force until his knuckles turned a bright white. He had no idea what he had done to deserve the kind of torment he was going through, but he didn't know how much more of it he could take.

_He knew the hunt was too much,_ the same voice said, loud and clear in Dean's subconsious. _He wanted to be cocky and get rid of the thing himself, but he made a mistake and that's why he is where he is._

Dean closed his eyes, feeling more tears slide down his face, half-surprised that he wasn't making a river of some kind with the amount of waterworks he was producing. "I said shut _up_," he whispered, his voice shaking harder than he could control it.

"What?" Jim said, looking over at him curiously as he was flipping the burgers. "What did you say?" Dean saw him exchange a curious, apprehensive look with Bobby before switching his gaze back to Dean. "What's-"

"Nothing," Dean said quickly, bringing his hand up to his face and furiously wiping away at the tears. "Its just—" he could feel himself start to break, and he knew that it was the breakdown that had been begging to come out ever since Caleb had left. "H-he s-should h-have had help," he sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together. "He never—he never should have done i-it-" he could hear Jim's soft footfalls as he came over to where he was, could see the shadow on the glass table where Jim stood over him and he didn't try to move as Jim wrapped his arms around the eleven-year-old, holding him tightly against him as the sobs built in Dean's throat.

"Shh, Dean, shh," Jim said soothingly as he rocked the boy gently back and forth. "Shh, its okay." But he knew that it was far from okay, and it wouldn't be until Caleb was back in their family. "It'll be okay, you'll see." He hoped desperately that he wasn't lying to Dean, that things really _would _be okay. "Deep, slow breaths," he coached as he felt, under his hand, the boy's back shaking with the sobs that had been wanting to come out for awhile now.

"He should have had help, someone should have gone with him. It was too big of a job to do alone." That was the most heartbreaking thing to him, that if things had been done differently, things might have turned out okay. "He never-" he took a deep breath, trying to will the sobs away.

"Dean, he's done these jobs for so many years and nothing has _ever _happened," Bobby said, "he knows what-" He knew it was a weak argument, but he was grasping at anything if it meant that it could offer some measure of comfort to Dean.

Dean shook his head frantically, trying to clear it from the overwhelming stress that was invading it. "I don't care! Something _did _happen and now he's in jail!" It didn't matter to him what had happened on previous hunts or not, the fact was that something _had _happened on this one and Caleb was paying the price.

"He's going to talk to his attorney, see if he can see you," Jim said, searching around for a change of subject that might get Dean back on track, might give him some glimmer of hope. "See if you can talk to him on the phone, or if you can actually _see _him, hug him and that sort of thing."

Dean nodded shakily as he drew back from Jim finally, and wiped the last remaining tears away from his face with his arm, feeling the last bit of sobs come out before disappearing entirely. "Does he even _want_ to see me?" He knew the relationship he had with Caleb and how strong it was, but he was just the littlest bit hurt that he had been left out of every single meeting that Jim had had with him.

"Dean, of _course _he wants to see you. He talks about that _all _the time. He just doesn't want you to see him like I've been seeing him, with a phone and a glass thing to look in on him-"

"I don't care about that," Dean said instantly, "I want to see him." He knew that he probably wasn't thinking things through rationally, but all he could think in his mind was that he wanted to see Caleb, and it didn't much matter to him how or where it happened.

Jim nodded softly, believing what Dean had believed once, that it wouldn't be hard seeing Caleb in jail and having to leave him there, but it _had_ been hard. It had been one of the hardest things that Jim had ever had to do. "I know, Dean. I thought that, too. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal and it _was_-"

"I don't care. I still want to see him." He got what Jim was trying to tell him, but he figured that anything would be betterthan waiting endless hours at home for him to come. For him to finally be okay again.

"We'll talk about it, okay?" Bobby said, keeping a weary eye on the door in case Sam came out unexpectedly. "We'll just see what his attorney says," he added, trying to diffuse the situation. "Now, let's eat."

* * *

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota—Three days later._

The poltergeist job had, conviently, been in Bobby's hometown of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It was a welcome relief to Dean, who was as used to Bobby's place as he was his own. He knew almost every single resident there, and knew most of the shop owners and business managers.

"Thanks for bringing me, Bobby," he said, looking over at the grizzled hunter, feeling the need to impart some sort of gratitude for bringing him out of Blue Earth and all the trauma and horrors there.

Bobby grunted, waving a hand, clearly not that comfortable with accepting gratitude. "Don't mention it," he said, "glad to have you here." Dean smiled, knowing Bobby like he knew his own hand, and sure enough, when he looked hard enough, he saw Bobby's eyes crinkle up into a private smile when he thought Dean wasn't looking.

Bobby's salvage yard had been like a second home to Dean, and he was relieved to see the assorted cars and junk that filled the place—he could remember, with a smile, the countless times that he and Sam had played hide-and-seek among the cars, hiding behind them, inside of them and under them.

"So you want to know more about this poltergeist?" Bobby said, once they were safely inside and sitting in the small but cozy family room.

Dean nodded as he scratched Bobby's dog, Rumsfeld behind the ear, who was lying lazily at his feet. "Yeah, what's the scoop?" He could feel a nervous sort of energy envelop him as he watched Bobby get together all the intel he had scored—he always felt like that, that nervous sort of excitement when he was about to go on a case his guardians trusted him to go on.

"Well, some newlywed couple," Bobby made a face that made Dean laugh, "have reported some "strange" happenings in their home—piano being moved, antique pictures being thrown from the walls, the woman, she was apparently taken to the hospital yesterday after she claimed she was thrown down the stairs."

Dean grimaced at the gory details as Rumsfeld nudged his hand, wanting more attention. "What do the doctors say?" He asked as he scratched the dog some more. "What is the husband saying?" He didn't see how many people would be able to easily explain something like that, and not have the cops start asking the hard questions.

"Well," Bobby removed his trucker cap, running a hand through his greying hair before replacing it. "They say she got lucky, just some bruising and that's all. The cops, they don't know what to think. They can't easily prosecute the poor fool if there's no history of domestic violence, and the woman saying that he didn't do anything."

Dean shook his head as Bobby handed him some crime scene reports and the woman and husband's accounts of what happened. "What about noises?" He knew from Caleb that when a poltergeist happened upon a home, most of the tell-tale signs came from the activity that was _unseen_: Noises that were unexplained, footsteps, bumps. Anything that would get the monster attention.

"Oh, yeah. Twice they called the cops 'cause they thought someone was breaking in, but the cops summed it up to be a false alarm." He stood up, then, shrugging on his coat and grabbing his truck keys. "Want to go with me to talk to the people? She's home from the hospital."

Dean nodded eagerly as he grabbed his stuff from the coffee table and followed Bobby out the door. Doing a new hunt always excited him, always brought him the adrenaline rush that he craved, and more importantly and especially now, brought a distraction that was unmatched by anything or anyone.

"Now," Bobby said, when they had reached the couple's simple brick two-story home. "I'm a reporter, and you're my...grandson." It seemed to pain Bobby greatly to say those words, no doubt an insecurity to how old he thought he was getting. "You can ask some questions, but mainly you're job while we're there, will be to shadow me."

Dean nodded, feeling a smirk come up on his face at Bobby's uneasy tone. "Got it, gramps." The smack that his arm got wasn't entirely undeserved, he knew, but it was still funny as he walked up the few short, steps of the home and watched silently as Bobby rang the doorbell once. "Will they even let us-" the question died on his lips when the door swung open, revealing a woman in her early twenties and looking well-put together despite having just been released from the hospital.

"Mrs. Lawson?" Bobby said, switching immediately into hunter mode, adopting any persona he needed in order to get the answers he needed, and destroy the monster that was terrorizing them. "My name is Steven Fell, this is my grandson, Tyler-"

"What do you want?" The woman said, coming further outside where Dean and Bobby were standing. "I already answered enough questions." Dean saw her shudder as if the memory of her hospitalization and questioning was too painful for her to recall.

"I understand," Bobby said quickly, injecting a note of sympathy into his voice, something that Dean marveled at, "but I'm a reporter for the _Sioux Falls Daily _and I was just wondering if I could, maybe ask some questions?"

The woman seemed to consider his offer, Dean could see it in the way her eyes grew unfocused as if she was contemplating it. He was used to watching Caleb deal with difficult and hesitant people, but it was an entirely new experience watching Bobby handle it.

"You training the kid or something?" Her amber eyes roved over Dean briefly before turning her attention back to Bobby who nodded in the affirmative. "Alright, fine. But...but make it quick." She turned her back to them, opened the door wider and gestured them both inside.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked as they walked through a small, oakwood foyer that was lined with personal pictures and furniture and through to a warm, inviting living room with a small fire going in the fireplace.

"Only a few months," she said, as she took a seat on a dark brown leather sofa, and pointed at an identical loveseat for them to sit on. "We bought it right after we got back from our honeymoon."

"Now, who was the realtor?" Bobby asked smoothly, pen and paper ready to jot down notes. "Just...for our files," he added, when the woman looked at him with somethng resembling suspicion on her face.

"Private realtor, a family friend," she said stiffly, in a tone that made it clear she didn't want to delve into the subject anymore. "For awhile, everything was perfect." Dean knew the story all too well. It was the same with everyone: For awhile, everything was peachy keen, and then the problems started when the couple unknowingly did something that infuriated the spirit.

"And then?" Bobby prompted. Dean could see his pulse increase on his neck when he began asking the tough questions, acutely aware of asking the wrong question and raising suspicion. "What happened?"

"Noises, and footsteps...I thought someone had broken in," she grabbed some kleenex from a pile next to her and wiped at her eyes. "Got in trouble with the cops because they thought I was lying, and-" she shook her head, her face a mixture of fear and frustration. "Then I had my-" she lifted her shirt to reveal several vividly dark, green and purple bruises on her stomach and hip. "Accident," she gulped.

"How did it happen?" Dean asked quietly, careful not to overstep his boundary and be respectful, but get the job done at the same time. It was the same technique that Caleb had taught him years ago. "The accident."

She half-shrugged. "I don't even really know. I felt this—this presence in the house, upstairs, and—and I went to walk downstairs and this—I felt this _hand _on my back and it pushed me down the stairs!" She drew in a breath before continuing, it sounded like she had waited weeks to say all this. "No one else was home, Bryan was at work and no one else was there with me."

"What did the police say?" Bobby asked, his hand flying across his paper as he wrote down all the things the woman was saying and his thoughts and opinions on the case.

"They said that I was delusional and I must have tried to kill myself." She scoffed as if the idea was absolutely ludicrous to her. "I told them no, but they just left it at that and the case was closed."

Dean shook his head, knowing very well what she was talking about with how unfair the law enforcement could be. "I understand." He didn't feel like going into detail, but he thought maybe if there was someone who understood, she would begin to open up more, begin to trust them more.

"It _sucks _when everyone thinks you did _this_," she gestured to her bruises," to yourself and no one will believe anything different." She shook her head in self-disgust, before straightening up in her seat. "Is that all?"

Bobby nodded. "Yes-" he tapered off instantly. He had heard _something _in the room next door, had heard a thumping noise. He glanced at Dean, wondering if he had heard the same thing or if he was just going insane, his suspicions were confirmed when Dean nodded. He had heard it, too.

"Do you hear something?" She stood up at the same time that Bobby and Dean did. "This house-" she shook her head. "Worst mistake of our lives."

"Is anyone else here?" Dean asked, glancing into the darkened den where the noise was originating from. His heart rate increased when he saw her shake her head, clutching the stitch in her chest as her chest heaved with the panic that she was feeling.

"No."

"I think you should-" Bobby began, but at the same time that he spoke, a butcher knife that had been on display, whistled toward him, barely missing his head as he ducked out of the way.

"Run!"


	14. Chapter 14

Dean's heart hammered painfully in his ribcage as he jumped from his place on the cozy sofa, and made a mad dash out of the living room and to the front door; one of the very first things that Caleb had instilled in his mind, was to recognize when a fight couldn't be won, and he knew it was one of those times. He ran, faster than he thought he could, toward the front door as tables toppled over, lamps fell down, cords swirled threateningly at his feet, trying to trip him.

He had the stained-glass front door in his sights, was about to reach out his hand to reach for the knob, when he felt himself falling, felt his heart begin to race and stutter with panic as the cord coming from one lamp, wrapped like a vice around his legs, keeping him bound and in place.

"Bobby," he gasped, his fingers fumbling with the cord as he frantically tried to pry it off of his legs, which were starting to feel numb as its grip tightened on him. "Bobby!" His fingers were turning red with the pressure he was applying to the cord, trying to break its death-grip on him.

"I'm here, Dean, I got you." He heard Bobby's rough, gentle voice and deep footsteps before he actually saw the older hunter. "We'll get it off." He felt reassured by the hunter's presence as he tried to relax his body so Bobby could work. "This got you good."

Dean laughed once, though it came out slightly hysterical. "Y-yeah, it sure did." He looked up when he heard a pair of small, hesitant footsteps and saw Mrs. Lawson standing at the entrance to the foyer, looking like a mixed combination of stunned and traumatized. "You should probably go wait outside," Dean said to her, looking at Bobby for backup, who nodded along with his words.

"He's right. We'll be outside in a second." Dean noticed that Bobby had taken out his silver hunting knife to saw off the cord, which had only increased his hold on him, probably realizing what was about to happen. "You doing okay, Dean?" Bobby asked quietly, once Mrs. Lawson had left and the door had quietly snapped shut behind her.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, trying to focus on his breathing which was coming out in short gasps as he tried to calm himself down, ignoring the horrible squeezing sensation that was coming from his legs. "Where's the poltergeist-" his question was answered when a chandelier near Bobby fell to the ground with a screeching, keening sound as its only warning.

"Right there," Bobby answered wryly as he finally sawed off the last of the cords bounding Dean's legs together. "Okay, can you walk?" He didn't know what kind of damage had been done to Dean's legs, if any, but he wasn't about to take any chances with it.

Dean nodded quickly as he righted himself into a sitting position, his legs still feeling numb from the pressure it had had on it, and his heart was still hammering painfully in his chest. "Yeah, I'm good." He accepted Bobby's help to stand, and peered around the house cautiously, trying to make sure the violent spirit wasn't planning any more surprise attacks.

"Let's get outside, okay?"

Dean didn't need telling twice as he and Bobby exited the house to find Mrs. Lawson on the front lawn by Bobby's truck; her once perfectly styled hair a complete mess as she paced back and forth, tears in her eyes.

"What-what just happened in there?" She demanded, rounding on the boys as soon as she heard their footsteps. "What—what," she shook her head, denying the obviousness of what she had just seen. "You two, you're not reporters," she shook her head. "No way." Sometimes it was a fact of life—victims ended up figuring out the truth, and Dean knew there was no way to skirt around it, or try to white-lie their way out of it.

"Please," Bobby said quietly, "just let me—_us_," he amended, looking at Dean, "explain. We can, I promise."

"Explain?" She said, sounding hysterical as she looked at the two guys before her. "How do you explain _that_? My house is a—a horror movie! And you," she looked at Bobby this time, "you dragged a kid into this?" She ignored the glare that Dean sent her way, and instead only looked at Bobby. "What were you-"

"Is there anyplace we can take you?" Dean interjected, not up to hearing her rant when he knew more than she ever would, and would understand more. "Because you can't really stay here." As if he needed to tell her that, but he had no idea if she was still entertaining the thought of staying where she was.

She took a long time to answer, glancing back and forth at Dean and Bobby, before finally nodding her head in acceptance. "My sister's, she lives down the street." It was easy enough, and Dean was just anxious to get the show on the road and kill the spirit that was terrorizing them.

"You'll stay there?" Bobby prompted as he opened the truck door for her to climb in. "Until we give you call?"

She nodded. "Yes."

* * *

One injury that Dean hadn't noticed right away in the massive adrenaline rush that he had had going through his veins, was the dislocated shoulder that he noticed when he tried to lift some research boxes that Bobby needed help with.

"Something wrong with your shoulder?" Bobby asked, looking up from what he was doing when he heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. "Dean?"

Dean nodded, holding his position perfectly still so he wouldn't jostle the shoulder any more. "Yeah, I think so. I can't really move it at all." He had had dislocated shoulders before, but they had always made their presence known before in the past. The adrenaline rush he had suffered right after the attack, must have clouded the pain, he figured.

"Alright, let me see." Bobby got up, walking over to where Dean was standing frozen by the couch. "Sit down, bud." Dean nodded, feeling slightly sick as he took the requested seat. "You're probably right, and its dislocated," Bobby said softly as he gently examine the injured shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

Dean looked at him, knowing what he was about to do. "Yeah." He swallowed heavily, taking a deep, comforting breath as he patted Rumsfeld on the head. "Just—just make it quick."

"You know I will." And he did, Bobby hardly had to manipulate the shoulder before it popped easily back into place. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" He chuckled softly, looking at Dean's relieved face. "All better?"

Dean nodded. "Much." It was still sore, but nothing like the earlier pain. "So what are we going to do about this poltergeist?" He knew poltergeists were originally spirits that had grown so violent overtime, that they had turned into violent, manipulative spirits.

"Well, this is what this box contains. It holds all the records from the house, as well as anyone who ever lived in it." Dean nodded as he took one of the papers and looked through it, smiling softly at the pictures of happy, smiling family's. "Anyone die there?" He knew one of the first things to investigate was if anyone had ever died in the house, knowing that a spirit often stuck to the place they died in, refusing to move on.

"As a matter of fact, yes. This girl." Dean took the picture that Bobby held out for him and looked down at the young, bright and smiling face that looked up at him, she looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen, and so full of life. "She was found dead in the basement."

Dean nodded, swallowing back the vomit that had risen in his throat. "She was murdered?" He felt disgust swirl like a vortex through his body as he imagined anyone hurting anyone, let alone a little girl.

"The cops arrested the dad."

"Good."

There was no sympathy, no love in his tone for a father that could ever hurt their own flesh and blood. He had never known his own father, but from what he had been told of him, his father had died trying to find his mother's killer, something that Dean took to meant that his father had died a meaningful death.

"If this little girl-"

"What was her name?" Dean didn't like referring to her just as "the little girl" he knew she had to have a name.

"Um, Jodie."

"Okay."

"If she refused to move on, then over the years she became violent and then sometimes violent spirits can be become so violent and so angry, that-"

"That they turn into something else," Dean finished quietly. "She's angry, and she wants to get attention, but she's blaming the wrong people." It was always that way with spirits, they would blame the wrong people, they would stick to a certain house or object and never have the chance to find peace.

Bobby nodded. "Exactly."

They both knew the things they could _try _to do to get rid of the poltergeist: Plant purifying objects around the house, try to find the object the spirit was attached to, and burn it. But all of those things required ging back to the house, and Dean wasn't sure he was quite ready for that.

"You sure you want to be here?" Bobby asked cautiously as they pulled up to the curb beside the property. "You can go back to my place, chill out-"

"No, here is good." He wasn't about to let some spirit scare him off, dictate to him where he was supposed to spend his time and where he wasn't. "Let's go." He offered a small smile to let Bobby know, more than anything, that he was fine.

"If you say so," he heard Bobby mutter to himself, before climbing out of the truck and slamming the door. "Stick with me, though." He didn't want a repeat of the earlier incident.

"Not a problem."

* * *

Going back inside the house, Dean felt his heart skip beats as he walked along the creaky hardwood floors behind Bobby, going around the corners of the house, searching for areas to plant their purifying bags.

"So what's in these bags?" Dean asked, holding up one of the bags as Bobby took a hammer to one of the walls, and started hacking it apart. "And what do they do?" He had heard of them, but had never gotten to find out exactly _what _they did, or _how _they protected someone.

"Different herbs and things like that—all of it is supposed to ward off anything malicious that tries to come into this place." Bobby reached for one of the bags that Dean was holding, and placed it in the wall. "The idea is that if all corners of the house are protected, the spirit won't have anywhere to go."

"It will be trapped."

"Exactly."

Their next stop was the basement, where the girl's body had been found. For Dean, going down there filled him with a certain sense of coldness as he involuntarily shivered when he reached the bottom step, and a feeling of foreboding that he couldn't shake, as if the spirit didn't _want _them there.

Dean walked around the basement, inspecting every square inch of it, looking for evidence that couldn't be clearly seen from the naked human eye. It was what he had been taught to do, to look for things that no one else could see, that a normal _untrained _eye couldn't pick up.

"Is this where she was found?" Dean pointed down at a raised part of the cement basement where the ground had clearly been messed with at some point. He almost threw up when he envisioned some poor, innocent soul being buried beneath the ground like that.

He heard Bobby's heavy footsteps as he came to look where Dean was pointing. "I don't know, probably." He heard the sympathy in Bobby's voice when he spoke, and while he could relate to that, all he felt was disgust that this poor girl had been transformed into a violent, unruly spirit because of the actions of another.

"Disgusting."

Bobby didn't comment on Dean's choice of words, as he finished placing the bags in the corners of the room. "That should be-" they had both heard it, the unmistakable footsteps that couldn't be seen, the chill in the air. Dean knew the spirit was either furious that it had been caught, or the bags hadn't worked and it was mad that it had gotten messed with. Either way, Dean, in no way, wanted to be caught up in the fury of the poltergeist as he moved nervously toward the narrow staircase.

"Found this," Bobby said quickly, holding out a dust-coated porcelain doll. "Near the place where they found the body." Dean looked at the doll for a second, imagining that to be the object the girl was attached to in the house. "Looks like it might be it, don't you think?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Their question was answered when Bobby went to make the fire that would burn the cursed object. A horrible, shrill scream echoed around the entire room as Bobby was slammed against the opposite wall with a sickening _thud _that left him momentarily immobile, Dean tried his best to ignore the ear-splitting sound as he lit the last match to light the fire.

"Bobby!" He shouted, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the fallen hunter who was struggling back to his feet. When Dean bent down to pick up the doll that had fallen to the ground, he barely missed the butcher knife that had aimed to slice his hand off. Dean had never been involved in a hunt like that, his heart was beating faster than a drum as he, with shaking hands, threw the doll into the fire.

"Get back, Dean," Bobby warned, gripping Dean's shoulder and pulling him back until they were up against the wall. "These suckers, in their last moments-" what he was about to say, was drowned out by the ferocious, angry yell that it let out as both boys were slammed painfully against the walls.

"Bobby-" Dean coughed, feeling himself inhale some of the smoke from the inferno. "Bobby-" he coughed again, trying to free himself from the wall that he was frozen to. "When is going to be over?" He choked out, watching as the doll slowly but surely burned and melted until it was nothing but a simmering pile of ash. And just like that, the invisible bonds holding Dean and Bobby, vanished as the spirit vanished along with it.

"Good hunt, huh?" Bobby said with a groan as he straightened up, righting his trucker cap as he immediately marched over to Dean, checking him over for an injuries that he might have sustained. "Your lungs okay?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." Now that the initial shock was wearing off, all he could feel in its wake, was complete and utter _joy _as he realized with a jolt of shock that he had completed his first poltergeist hunt, that he had made it through one of the worst hunts he could have taken on at that age.

"You did it."

Dean was stunned to hear the note of pride in Bobby's voice when he addressed him, it made him feel like he really _had _done it, that he had done his first poltergeist job and hadn't freaked and had remained calm. Exactly like he had been taught.

* * *

Leaving Sioux Falls, going back home, it left Dean with mixed feelings about the whole thing. Going home to see Sam and Jim, excited Dean and left him feeling home sick, but another larger part of him dreaded going back and facing whatever hell awaited him there.

"Home sweet home." He looked up, ripped out of his thoughts by Bobby's gruff voice. "Ready?" He patted Dean's knee.

Dean looked up and nodded, shoving aside the dread and nervousness as he allowed his victory over the poltergeist to take center stage as he strode confidently through the garage and into the house. The first person he saw was Jim, who seemed to be waiting for them to arrive by the way he grabbed Dean into a tight hug and wouldn't let him go.

"Bobby told me everything."

Dean pulled back briefly, a confused look on his face. "Everything _what_?" He glanced at Bobby, whose passive, calm expression remained on his face, showing no hint of anything.

"How you were so brave and how you took that monster down. Really proud of you."

Dean hadn't been expecting that, but he was willing to take the compliment nonetheless. "It wasn't that big of a deal," he murmured softly. "Just a typical hunt."

"How's your shoulder?"

Dean glared at Bobby, knowing _exactly _how overprotective Jim and Caleb were when it came to him and Sam. He couldn't believe that Bobby would spill that, especially when he was fine.

"You told him that?"

"He has a right to know."

Dean couldn't argue with that logic, so he didn't as he sighed, slipping into one of the kitchen chairs and accepting the diet coke that Jim held out for him. "It's fine. _Really_," he added, seeing the skeptical look on Jim's face. "The stupid monster tripped me and I didn't even notice it until much later. Its really okay."

Jim nodded. "Okay, I'm glad you're okay. I really am." His face lit up into a momentary smile as he regarded the eleven-year-old and how close he had come to losing him on the hunt, he was half-surprised he had allowed Bobby to take him at all. "I have something to tell you."

Dean looked at him curiously. "Oh, yeah? What?"

"You can see Caleb."


	15. Chapter 15

Dean was confused; ever since Caleb had left and turned himself in, any and all contact he had had with him had been void for his protection, the adults would say. Any visits with him, he had been left out of, and now, Jim was taking him for the first time; confused was actually an understatement as he tried to process what was going on, what had changed.

"Why are you taking me?" He figured he better say something soon before he got even more confused and was left speechless before too long. "I mean, what changed?" He had pulled every negotiation tactic in his arsenal to get himself a ticket to go, and had been unsuccessful until then.

"Caleb talked to Dawn about you having a meeting with him, and she told him about some family program that the jail has that allows...people who have children, or who are guardians of children, to have contact with them, play with them, that sort of thing."

Caleb and Jim never would have agreed to the meeting if those stipulations hadn't been in place first. They both knew better than anyone the emotional turmoil that Dean was going through, and they knew that it would have been cruel to let Dean see Caleb in any other way.

"Really?" Dean had just been ecstatic to hear he was going at all, to hear that he would actually get to hug Caleb, have the kind of contact with him that he hadn't had since before he left, it was a bonus that he hadn't expected to get.

A ghost of a smile briefly showed on Jim's face as he glanced at the precocious eleven-year-old sitting next to him. When the meeting had first been approved, he had been more than a little hesitant to bring Dean to an environment like that, with criminals and the nastiness that went along with it, but the smile on Dean's face proved to him more than anything else, that he and Caleb had been right to arrange this meeting.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jim asked, looking over at Dean as he pulled into the entrance to the county jail. "Because this is-" truthfully, he couldn't believe that he was willingly bringing a child into a place like that. He knew Dean wanted to see him, but he couldn't help second guessing the ramifications of a visit like the one they were about to conduct.

"I'm fine," Dean immediately interjected. The last thing he wanted was for Jim to decide, in a moment of uncertainty and doubt, that he wasn't old enough or that the visit had to wait. "I _promise_," he added, seeing the flicker of doubt play across Jim's face.

"Okay." Dean sighed in relief when the car rolled to a complete stop near the entrance to the jail (or the hell-hole, as Dean liked to call it). He wasn't prepared for the bitter February weather that assaulted him when he climbed out of the car, but he braved it as he walked at a steady but fast pace with Jim.

"Stay with me," Jim reminded him as they walked through the dull and depressing jail house doors, with the large metal detector stationed directly in front of them, like it was just waiting for them to mess up, make a mistake that would prevent them from seeing their loved one.

"I know," Dean said, looking reassuringly at Jim as he watched him take his turn walking through the metal trap, as Dean called it, before taking his own small turn. The last thing he wanted was to get separated from Jim in a dark and depressing place like that. When he looked around at his surroundings, he saw unsympathetic corrections officers leading criminals away in handcuffs, saw family's huddled together, hugging their loved ones and bailing them out. Dean wished they had that option.

He was excited to see Caleb, no doubt about it, but what he hadn't been expecting were the feelings of nervousness, of uncertainty as he followed a silent but intimidating guard down a long, gray hall. He glared his distrust at the guard as he stopped outside a door and led them into an office-like room with a table, a disturbingly bright light hanging above it, and a few chairs.

"Thanks," Jim murmured softly to the guard as he closed the door again. "Dean, you still doing okay?"

"I'm nervous," Dean admitted as he got up from the seat he had taken on one of the hard metal chairs. "_Really_ nervous," he amended as he began pacing the room. He thought it would be no big deal seeing Caleb like this, thought that Jim was just over exaggerating when he warned him about how upsetting it would be. Pacing gave him time to _think_, time to reflect on the fact that Jim hadn't been joking.

"Why?" The question was spoken curiously, innocently as if he really _was _considering Dean's feelings, was concerned about him. "Scared?" He would have considered it remarkable if Dean _hadn't _been scared. He was an adult man and he still had trouble walking out at the end of each visit, had problems seeing his friend in a disgusting place like that.

Dean momentarily halted his pacing and turned, facing his guardian. "Yeah," he nodded. "I just-" he trailed off, not knowing how to put into words the complicated jumble of emotions he was feeling. "I just never thought things would turn out this way."

He was used to the crap that happened to him—it was just the name of the game when his life was the way it was, but the one constant in his life had been his family, and when that was taken away, he didn't know how he was supposed to react, especially when he had already endured so much in his life already.

"I know," Jim said softly, sympathetically. "I know it's hard-" the door to the room suddenly opened, Dean spun around as the same guard came back in, this time bringing Caleb in with him. Dean felt as if his entire heart would burst out of his chest with excitement and longing if he wasn't careful, as his eyes locked with Caleb's for the first time since their nightmare had begun.

"I'll be outside," the guard quietly said. Dean could detect the undercurrent of a warning in his tone. He waited until the guard was safely out of the room before letting any of his real emotions show. His smile when he saw Caleb was almost as big as the one that Caleb wore on his face.

"You just gonna stand there? Or are you going to come over here and see me?" Caleb said, wearing the same relaxed smile on his face that Dean was so accustomed to seeing him wear.

Dean's body responded faster than his mind did as he closed the short distance that separated them, finally wrapping his arms around Caleb as he sank slowly down to his knees. It was the reunion that Dean had been waiting for and it was finally there. His mind, in the euphoric state it was, wouldn't allow him to remember that it wasn't a permanent reunion. Not yet, at least.

"I missed you so much, Bud."

He could feel Dean nod his head against his chest in his answer. The forced separation had been hard on both of them: For Caleb, he had to endure the double whammy of not only being separated from his family, but having to sit behind bars for the majority of the day, and know that an end wasn't anywhere in sight.

For Dean, it was the realization that, once again, the evils of the world had stolen someone he loved, had taken yet _another_ person from him. It wasn't fair, and both of them knew it. And neither of them could change the circumstances, no matter how much they might have wanted to.

"I missed you, too." Dean didn't think any word choice could possibly describe how much he missed Caleb, and how much he wished things could be different, that things could back to the way they were.

"How have you been?" Caleb knew a little from Jim, and what he knew wasn't pretty, but he still wanted to hear it from Dean, wanted to have that same, familiar connection with him again.

"Okay," Dean said quietly. He knew he was probably white-lying it but he didn't want to go into needless feelings, didn't want that to spoil his time with Caleb. "I've been okay."

He could feel Caleb chuckle softly as he increased his hold on him. "That's the answer that you want me to believe, now what's the truth?" He knew the kid better than anyone, and he knew when Dean was lying, and it was one of those times.

Dean sighed as he looked up at his guardian, knowing that he should have guessed that Caleb would see right through his facade and crack down on him again. "Pretty bad," he admitted quietly, figuring there was no use in lying when Caleb was a human lie detector. It was one of the perks and one of the falls about having someone as good as Caleb was for a guardian.

Caleb frowned as he heard Dean's words. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that there would be struggles with him being out of the picture, knew that Dean would be the one who would be the most affected at the changes happening around him, but it was still hard for him to hear, especially when he knew that he couldn't do much to remedy the situation. "I'm sorry, bud. I really am."

"It's not your fault," Dean said without hesitation.

If there was one thing that Dean knew and could take comfort in, was the fact that Caleb hadn't done anything to warrant this, hadn't caused this to happen to him. He didn't know why that mattered so much to him, but it did.

"I know that, bud," Caleb said softly. "I know."

Dean nodded as he tightened his grip around Caleb, tucking his head under Caleb's chin chin. "Do you-" he swallowed back the lump in his throat as he thought about his next question, his next topic of conversation. "Do you-" he couldn't form the question, because part of him was scared of Caleb's answer.

"Do I what?" Caleb asked softly, gently brushing away some of Dean's soft bangs in order to see his face more clearly. "Come on, you can tell me." He knew that he made mistakes, it was the name of the game when he was raising two boys but he was proud of the fact that he had always had an open, honest relationship with both of them.

"Do you regret any of it? Any of _this?_" Dean finally said, voicing the question that had been on his mind for weeks. "At all?"

Caleb honestly thought about Dean's question before answering it. It was complicated where he was concerned, and he wondered how he was supposed to explain it to someone who was just a kid. "Its sort of a two way street, Dean. Know what that is?" He could feel Dean shake his head against him as he went on with his sentence. "On the one hand, I do regret it." He regretted not having his family, not being a part of the boys' regular lives, and he regretted the hunt that had put him there.

"And on the other hand, I don't regret it because I know what the alternative would have been." Facing what the alternative would have been, had been one of the deciding factors in what he had done. "I couldn't go there." Dragging the boys from state to state just to elude the cops, was something that was absolutely out of the question for him.

"You mean us leaving," Dean said quietly, it wasn't a question that that was what Caleb had meant, and it made his heart clench painfully at the thought that if Caleb had just taken a leap of faith and had run, they could still be a family.

Caleb nodded, sighing heavily. "Yeah. That's what I mean. I just couldn't-"

"We would have been okay, Caleb," Dean said quietly. "We would have had each other." He didn't care about the rest of it. He could have gone to a new school, could have made new friends. But having his family together was what mattered the most to him, and he didn't have it.

"I know that, but Jim and I," Caleb's eyes shifted to Jim, who had been silent throughout his and Dean's reunion, letting them have their moment with each other. "We made a promise that we wouldn't raise you boys like other hunters have." _Like John would have_, Caleb thought. "It's not a pretty life, Dean and we didn't want that for you or your brother."

Dean didn't care about some deal that had been made years ago without his knowledge, all he cared about was that "deal" was the only thing that had kept Caleb from running, from saving himself. "As long as we have our family, we're okay," Dean said. "It's always been that way."

Caleb nodded softly. "I know, and usually that's true, but with something like this-"

"It's just not fair!" Dean suddenly exploded, feeling weeks worth of anger and pain come exploding out of him in a rage that he was hard-pressed to control. "You didn't do anything wrong! You were just trying to help that poor girl and now you're here! You didn't do anything, you're innocent!"

Caleb nodded softly as he hugged Dean closer, trying to bring some peace to him with the tactile touch, trying to make the kids world a little brighter. "I know that, Dean, I _know_ I didn't do anything to her, and you know that and Jim knows it, and all of our friends. And that, Dean, is what matters the most, that the people I love the most believe that I would _never_ do such a horrific thing."

"But you're still here-"

"I know." Caleb wished that things could be as simple as saying he didn't do anything, and he would be released. "It's not fair, Dean. You're right. It's not fair that because of one stupid mistake and one stupid monster, I'm here." He had always known the situation wasn't fair, but actually voicing it aloud, drove that realization home further.

"What do you mean?" Dean arched a confused eyebrow. "What mistake?" He had known hunters to make mistakes before, but it was completely different when a mistake landed someone he loved in jail.

Caleb nodded, as he wound his arm tighter around Dean's back. "Yeah. I was—I was rushing," he said softly, as the memories came back to him full-fledged. "I was rushing and I was moving too fast, I wanted to get the job done." He swallowed back the bitter taste of regret and fury as he realized for the first time how different things could have been if he hadn't rushed and if he hadn't made the mistake he made. "It was the last day I was supposed to be there, and I had just wanted to get the job done and get back home. Nothing would have happened if I hadn't-"

"Hadn't what?" Dean said, his voice small. He hated that, hated sounding so unsure and so uncertain. "What happened?" He couldn't possibly imagine what Caleb had done to earn himself a one-way ticket to where he was, but he was willing to listen.

"I had my back turned, and my mind was going a million miles an hour and I just—I just wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, and if I had I would have seen it coming a mile away. When I turned, it was too late."

Dean was momentarily stunned at Caleb's revelation, not used to hearing him admit to making mistakes, always used to him being on top of his game and acing whatever hunt he did; hearing that something different had happened, was a sobering experience for him.

"It doesn't matter," Dean shook his head stubbornly, warding away the cruel, taunting thoughts that were running loose through his mind. "You _still _didn't do anything wrong. You don't deserve this."

"So you went on your first poltergeist hunt?" It was obvious to Dean that he was trying to change the subject, and he honestly couldn't blame him. "Jim told me."

Dean grinned, forcibly putting a mental block on his mind that banned any and all negative thoughts as he tried to revel in his victory with Bobby, and the intoxicating thrill that he had dearly missed. "Yeah, it was completely awesome." He still remembered, even after more than a week, the thrill he had felt as he completed the hunt, managed to take down his first poltergeist.

"I'm really proud of you, dude." Dean believed it, too when he heard the note of pride in Caleb's voice. "I just wish I had been there to see it." Dean wanted that, too but he tried not to dwell on it, tried to just solider through with his conversation.

"Yeah, it would have been awesome, huh?

Caleb nodded, feeling just the tiniest bit sad that he hadn't been there for Dean's poltergeist hunt but he was thrilled for Dean that he had managed to do so well on the job. He had trained Dean for that moment, had worked with him on attack, on dodging and all other aspects of training that was required. His work had obviously paid off and he was glad, even though it was bitter-sweet.

"How's Sammy doing?"

If there was one thing that Caleb was grateful for, it was the fact that seven-year-old Sam was spared the same agony that his family was going through, that he could go on with his life believing that he was just doing a job, that he would be back soon like always.

Dean scoffed softly, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. "He's a brat," he grinned to show he was just kidding. "He started up soccer practice again with that one coach again."

"Are you helping him?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, when he wants me to."

Caleb nodded. "Good. I'm proud of you." He knew it was hard on Dean to keep up a facade for the sake of his brother and he was grateful that Dean was trying, was doing the normal things he did with Sam and keeping things normal for him.

"So what's it like here?" Dean winced, imagining Caleb's answer. "Crappy?" He ventured, raising an eyebrow.

Caleb shrugged, not particularly feeling like going into much detail with him, knowing how much it would upset him. "Its okay. The food here is crap, but that's not too surprising."

"Really? Worse than hospital food?" Dean had had the misfortune of trying hospital food when he had been hospitalized for injuries he had gotten on hunts, and it was some of the worst stuff he had had.

Caleb laughed once, playfully punching Dean in the arm "Oh, yeah. _Way _worse. I'll never poke fun at the hospital stuff again." The food was either overdone, underdone or just not cooked at all. It was nasty to eat, and Caleb had the sneaking suspicion that they purposefully made the food that way to make the experience worse on everyone.

Dean made a face. "Yuck. So do you get to do _anything_?" His perception of jail was that you were stuck in a cell for the entirety of the day, and hardly ever got out. "At all?"

Caleb shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I get to come out of my cell in the mornings to eat breakfast-"

"They let you out to do that?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, in this place called "the quad", Caleb held up four fingers in a quotation mark. "And you can eat with the other...people there in your cell block." He didn't like referring to himself as an "inmate" and he knew that Dean probably wouldn't appreciate the term, either.

"That's good at least. What else?" It would help, Dean figured, if he knew _exactly _what Caleb was doing, what rights he had and so forth. "Any fun?"

"Yeah, you can go outside and shoot some hoops and play cards, that sort of thing."

"Do you have any friends here?" He couldn't imagine making friends with the kind of people that were in there, but he also knew how sociable Caleb was, and couldn't imagine him not having some sort of human contact besides the guards.

"Not really," Caleb shook his head. "Most of the guys here really _did _do something, and I'm just not in the mood to be too overly friendly to them."

"Anyone here give you a hard time?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, one guy did and I just ignored him as best I could." Caleb knew he if had reacted to the guy, he would have ended up getting in trouble along with the guy. "He tried to provoke me, I just turned my head, he punched me once and he got put in solitary and I didn't."

"Why?" Jim spoke for the first time. "The guards see what really happened?"

Caleb nodded. "Yeah, I told 'em everything he had done, and they ended up putting him away and they ended up giving me more rights."

Dean shrugged. "That's not too bad, right?"

Caleb shook his head. "Nope. Now the guy hates me even more, but I don't really care what he thinks," he laughed once.

* * *

It was hard saying goodbye to Caleb when the visitation hours were over, but for Dean, the pain he expected to feel in his chest, wasn't as hard as he thought. He expected to be devastated at the mere _thought _of leaving Caleb there, but while he was upset, he wasn't _as _upset as he thought he would be. He didn't know if he was still on a high from seeing him, or what, but it was a feeling he welcomed.

"He looked good, didn't he?" Jim said, on the drive home. "More like himself, right?"

Dean nodded as he stared out the window at the gray sky and the cars in the other lane. "Yeah, I don't know what I thought before, but he looked really good. It was really cool seeing him."

The nervousness that he had felt before, had slipped away the instant that he had glimpsed him and it hadn't come back, either. He fervently hoped that it wouldn't be the last time he would see him, hoped that more meetings like that could come up.

"Dawn said that you could probably have phone sessions with him, too. After a certain period of time, they let people who haven't had any strikes, use phones when the people they're supposed to see, can't come."

"Can he do that yet?"

Jim shook his head. "He has to be there for about a month before they allow that, so it will be another week, but after that-" he let the thought go unanswered as he turned on their street. "And he hasn't had any strikes against him, so that works in his favor."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."


	16. Chapter 16

Going to see their old friends, Bill and Ellen Harvelle, Dean tried _not _to think about how different that year's trip would be without Caleb. He _always _went with them, and not having him in the front seat telling jokes and ribbing Jim, was a sobering experience for Dean.

"Why isn't Caleb coming with us?" Sam asked from beside Dean. "He _always_ does," he said, stating the obvious for his big brother. If Sam noticed his brother tense beside him, he didn't comment. He stared at Dean, waiting for his response.

"Because...he's still finishing up his job," Dean said, fighting to keep his voice straight and not let it betray how hard the last several weeks had been, and how hard the trip promised to be. "But," he said, taking in a deep breath. "He'll be back soon," he said, plastering on a smile for Sam's benefit.

Sam narrowed his eyes at him the way that he did when he was trying to figure out if the adults, or in this case, his brother was lying to him. It was a cute tactic and it made the adults who didn't know him as well, fall for it instantly. "Really?"

Dean couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from his mouth as he shook his head at his brother. "Really, Sam." He felt awful for lying to Sam, but he knew the truth would only serve to confuse and scare him, and that was something the innocent, impressionable seven-year-old didn't need.

"It must be a _really _long job if he couldn't even come with us to see Ellen and Bill."

Dean nodded silently as he looked out the window at the rolling hills and various, scattered farms along the highway. He usually loved looking out the window and pointing out the farms and animals to Sam, but this time he wasn't as into it as he usually was.

"Sam, remember that farm?" Jim said, pointing to a moderate-sized farm to their right. "Remember the horses?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah! The horse had a baby and it looked like Bambi."

Dean couldn't help the smile that escaped. He remembered how excited Sam had been to see the baby horse, and how much it had looked like one of his favorite Disney animals. "Probably all grown up by now."

Sam looked momentarily startled at Dean's words, but then half-shrugged without concern. "That's okay, because now _she _can have babies."

"What if she's a boy?"

Sam shook his head. "No, it's a girl."

Dean shook his head with amusement as he rested his hand on the armrest inside the door. He was actually surprised at how well he was doing, considering the circumstances, but he figured that as long as he didn't dwell on it, that maybe he would be okay.

"I bet Ellen's going to have the apple pie that we all love," Jim said, from the driver's seat. "Remember how she makes it almost completely homemade?"

Dean grinned, ignoring the sudden, excited jump his stomach gave out. "Don't remind me, Jim," he moaned in delight. "She better have that stuff, that's all I can say." Ellen was one of the best cooks that Dean knew, and he knew that whenever they came, she pulled out all the stops since she didn't see them often.

"There isn't anything that woman can't do with an oven," Bobby said from the front seat. "She's told me that Bill's bragged to all his friends about her cooking."

"I don't doubt it," Dean said. "Are we almost there?" He had long since gotten tired of the boring and long car ride, and just wanted to arrive in the cool climate of Nebraska and get comfortable around their spacious kitchen and catch up with them.

"In about half hour or so," Jim said, checking the time on the car clock. "Getting anxious?"

"More like getting anxious to satisfy my stomach."

He and Sam had already eaten their way through their road snacks and had washed it all down with the Gatorade bottles they had brought. His stomach, empty and restless, had started to rebel.

"Well, it shouldn't be too much longer."

Dean could see Jim glancing at him from the rear view mirror, trying to be inconspicuous about it, and Dean knew that he was concerned, trying to see if he was about to break or not. He didn't really blame him for the concern, and if he was being honest, he was grateful for the concern.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Dean said jokingly. "You have precious cargo in the car."

* * *

Thankfully, the trip didn't last much longer and Dean sighed in relief when he saw the small town they lived in, and saw the friendly little stores and shop owners that signified that they were close. Nebraska had always felt like a second home to him, and he was glad for the break.

"Finally!" Dean said, when they pulled into their driveway, after driving for the better part of the day. Even though he had gotten breaks to stretch his legs out, they still felt stiff and uncomfortable as he got out of the car.

"Thought you guys got lost," Bill Harvelle said, standing on his porch and watching as the small family got out of the car. "Make it alright?"

"Yeah, shockingly enough," Dean said with a teasing grin in Jim's direction. "It's _so _good to be here." He wasn't lying—inhaling the crisp country air and hearing the birds and horses, it made him long to actually _live _there.

"Glad to hear it," Bill said as he drew Dean in for a hug, knowing how much the boy hated them, but also knowing that he couldn't let him get away without one. "How are you doing?" He asked quietly, as he let Dean go.

Dean shrugged. "Hanging in there." It was the most truthful answer that he could come up with. "I've been okay."

Bill nodded, though he looked a little skeptical. "Good." He turned his attention to Sam, who had just clambered out of the car and was running to meet the older hunter, arms thrown wide. "Hey, Sammy!" He picked the child up, swinging him around in the air like he used to do with Dean when he had been small enough.

"Uncle Bill!" He giggled as Bill tickled his sides before setting him down. "You tickle hard!"

"I'm the master," Bill said, sounding as if he couldn't help it. "Ask Jo, and she'll tell you."

Dean smiled at their banter, he could smell the very faint smells of cooking food inside the house, and more importantly, could smell something sugary. "Is Ellen in there cooking?"

Bill chuckled and nodded. "The more important question you should be asking yourself is when _isn't _she cooking."

Dean nodded seriously. "Good point." He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling the effects of the biting cold air that had, until that point, been unsuccessful in making its presence known. "Let's get inside."

Sure enough, when he walked through the cozy family room and into the kitchen, he saw Ellen hard at work at the stove. "Hey, guys," she said, smiling warmly as she abandoned the stove and gave each of her friends a warm hug. "How's everyone?"

Everyone muttered a 'good or 'great' as Dean seated himself at the counter, grabbing some cookie dough that was lying there, and stuffed a small part of it in his mouth, chewing slowly to better enjoy the taste.

"Did Ellen mention the job I'm working with Jefferson?" Bill asked, as he fixed Jo's hair. "Kind of a head scratcher."

"What does that mean, Daddy?" Jo asked, turning around once he was done to study her dad.

"It means that it's really confusing," he grimaced as he held out some papers for Jim to take. "Some house is haunted-"

"What's so confusing about that?" Bobby grumbled, looking over Jim's shoulder at the documents.

"The fact that the EMF only went off in one," Bill held up one finger, "room, and nowhere else in the house."

Even Dean knew that was highly unusual and from the looks of Jim and Bobby, they shared his sentiments. A spirit or poltergeist was usually able to free roam a house or building it was tied to, usually it wasn't just restricted to one part of the home.

"Why would that happen?" Dean asked, voicing the question that probably everyone in the room was thinking. "Don't spirits normally have free reign over whatever place they're stuck in?"

Bill nodded at the same time that Bobby and Jim did. "You would think so, but I've heard instances—_rare _instances, where a person is stuck in the place they died if the death was violent."

"So what's the history of the house?" Jim asked, looking down again at the report he had just been handed. "Any unusual deaths?"

"The house was built around the 1800's and was calm until a teenager, Kat Asher died, murdered by her uncle. That was around thirty years ago, and ever since then, new owners of the house have complained about hearing things, furniture moving and things like that."

"So that's why the EMF only works in her room?" Dean surmised. "Because she was murdered there, right?"

Bill nodded grimly, exchanging a glance with Ellen. "Yeah, Jefferson asked me to work it but I told him that I would only do backup work. I'm still recovering from the last one." Dean knew what he was talking about. He had been hurt on a wendigo case, and had been recovering from it ever since.

"For once you're being smart," Ellen said, shaking her head. "Who knew?"

"Did they ever catch her uncle?" Dean asked.

Bill nodded. "I think so, anyway."

* * *

Sleeping over at Bill and Ellen's always promised to be an adventure and a good time. Bill read to Sam before moving on to the more gory horror stories for Dean's sake, which he loved. Dean snuggled in under his covers as he listened to Bill's deep, rumbling voice read him some story that he was _sure _he had invented from scratch.

"Did you invent that?"

Bill grinned. "You know me too well, kiddo."

Dean shrugged. "Can't help it."

Bill shook his head. "Jim told me that Caleb's going to be getting this prelim in about a month or so?"

Dean nodded, looking down at his covers. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It should be a quick one." He didn't know if that made him feel _more _nervous or not. "Why does stuff like this happen?"

"I don't know, Dean. It sure seems like all the bad guys get off and the good people have bad things happen, right?"

Dean nodded, twisting the blanket around his finger. "It's hard hearing Sam ask when he's going to be back and not know if I'm lying when I tell him he'll be back."

Bill hadn't been sure that lying to Sam about Caleb's whereabouts had been the smartest thing, but he knew for certain that it had spared the seven-year-old from going through more loss.

"He's lucky, Dean, that he has a big brother that's looking out for him."

Dean shrugged. "He has Jim and Bobby and you guys."

"I know that, but he really loves you, too."

Dean grinned. "Well, you can't really blame him."

Bill chuckled. "True, true."

"Night."

"Night, bud."


	17. Chapter 17

**Anyone still remember this story still? If so, I apologize immensely for the lack of updating I have done on this! You can blame it on a chronic condition called "writers block." It's prevented me from finding inspiration to continue the story, but I hope to be cranking out chapters more regularly again**

* * *

_Chapter 17_

Dean was used to working with Jim, Caleb and sometimes with Bobby when a hunt was up on the plate. He was used to their style, used to working with a system that had been in place since the time he could remember anything. The familiarity was nice, and something that he could reply on in a life where the _unexpected _was as common as tying your shoes or falling asleep and waking up in the morning.

Working with Bill was very different from working with the guys, who's presence and strategies were something he'd grown to depend on as much as the relative safety and security of his own home. For one thing Bill liked to rely on his own God given instincts, rather than the technology that the guys had bought and utilized for their hunts.

He believed that the "modern technology" was just a safety net for hunters, and that good 'ole research did the trick just as much as it did centuries ago. The only thing he _would _use, was the EMF reader, but for most other things, he liked to rely on his carefully crafted notes and senses.

"It looks so old," Dean murmured softly as they pulled up smoothly to the curb of the 1800's-style Victorian home. "When was it built?"

"1830's," Bill said, glancing out the window at the historic site. "Not one incident, that we know of, until just recently."

Dean knew the history of the house from studying it with Jim and Bill: Around thirty years ago, a teenage girl was murdered there by her uncle. The theory floating around hunter circles was that the room she had been murdered in, was the room she was stuck in, because of the fact that EMF readings only went off in that one area of the house.

"So what's the recent activity?" Bobby grumbled from the front seat.

"A young family, two kids," Bill said, tucking his gun in the waistband of his jeans as he spoke. "Heard some strange noises, scratches, things like that. It started to get violent around a week ago when they found bruise marks on their youngest, and some scratches on the husband."

"Could be the spirit was trying to warn the family," Dean said, as he slid out of the backseat and strode purposefully up the ancient walkway, up the stone steps and through the immense double doors of the home. "It's been known to happen, especially if they feel like they have to protect the space they're in."

In demonology 101, he and Caleb had gone over the various reasons why a spirit would choose to stay on the earth, instead of crossing over to where they belonged. One of the things that Caleb had driven into Dean's head was that _spirits _were not evil; they were simply lost or confused and needed to be guided back to where they belonged. It was different, he said, than _demons_, who were evil and needed to be stopped.

Bill nodded thoughtfully as they crossed over the foyer and into the adjoining dining room. "Could be." he acknowledged. "Especially if she's trying to protect the space from a different spirit-"

"Or poltergeist."

"Exactly," Bill smiled.

Dean knew that most adults wouldn't expect a kid like him to have such impressive knowledge of the supernatural world when most kids his age were only focused on sports, girls and friends. But the unique life he had been raised in, had given him another set of eyes, eyes that saw things others didn't and probably never _would _see, if they were lucky.

"We should split up," Bobby said, casting a glance around at huge space before them. "Jim and I can take the upstairs?"

Bill nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. Dean and I can search around here. Plenty of space to cover."

The house was more a mansion than an actual house, and Dean knew if they all stuck together and searched the same space, it would easily take them hours to cover the entire space.

"Okay," Jim said, one foot already on the bottom step of the stairs. "Dean," he looked directly at the eleven-year-old. "Stay with Bill and _be careful_," he emphasized.

Dean nodded. "I know. I will be."

He and Bill wasted no time in spreading out over the bottom portion of the house which covered an impressively-sized living room, family room and conjoined kitchen and dining area.

"I talked to the family that's living here," Bill said as they walked, flashlights in their hands, covering over every nook and cranny they might have missed on their first go-through. "They're staying in a hotel downtown until we're through here."

"Good."

Dean hated it when the homeowners were there. It made their work that much more difficult when they had people breathing down their necks, demanding answers they couldn't give.

"Remember what I taught you?" Bill asked as they switched rooms and walked into a den-like area that housed a desk, seating area and television. "About the room temperature?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "If a spirit's in the room, the temperature will drop?"

Bill nodded. "Typically, yes."

Dean grinned as he lifted a flap on the couch to look under it. "What do you think Sammy and Jo are doing right now?"

Bill laughed, shaking his head. "Probably being spoiled with Ellen's home cooked grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches."

Dean groaned. "Dude, stop talking about food. My stomach hates you right now."

"And then there's the hot chocolate she makes-" Bill laughed, avoiding the punch Dean threw his way as they walked out near the front of the house, where a wine cellar was housed, hidden in a darkened corner of the house. "Cover my back?" Bill knew a favorite trick of an angry spirit or poltergeist was to slam the door shut when an occupant entered a space such as a basement or cellar.

"Yeah."

Dean watched carefully as Bill inspected every square inch of the cellar, his flashlight shining in every corner of the tight space for suspicious activity. "Dean, look from where you are." Dean squinted his eyes at where Bill was shining his light. "Is that cement _raised_?" The portion of the cement ground that Bill was pointing at, was raised in a slight upward pattern, as if something or _someone _had disturbed it before.

"Is that where the girl is _buried_?"

Bill nodded grimly. "Unless the freak did that for a hobby, I'd say so."

"But why would she haunt the other room? Why not this one?"

"Because she _died _in that room. She was buried here. It's weird, but there's a difference to them," Bill explained, his hand moving across his chin as he contemplated their obvious predicament: how to dig up cement.

"What do we do?"

"Go get Jim and Bobby. Tell them we need anything tough enough to break through cement."

An hour later, the guys had managed to break through the cement grave the girl's body had been put in. The bones, all that was left of the girl, stared sickeningly up at them as they stood at the ready with lighter fluid and matches.

"Watch it guys," Jim said, his eyes shifting around the room as he struck the match. "The spirit's here."

Dean definitely noticed the drop in temperature, and the feeling of someone else being in the room with them. It made him shudder at the thought of being so close to the spirit when he knew how angry and upset it was with what had happened.

He watched with bated breath as the glow of the small inferno lit up before his eyes. He had seen countless corpse burnings before, but he had never witnessed one where the victim had been so young, so full of life and promise and it had been carelessly snuffed out by the actions of an enraged man.

"Want to get home to Sammy?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He was anxious to tell his little brother all about his adventure in the creepy house, and of course, exaggerate on the drama for his brother's eager ears.

* * *

As a celebratory dinner for successfully ridding the mansion of the spirit, Bill had fired up his outside grill and the gang feasted on his hamburgers and fries. "This tastes like little pieces of heaven," Dean moaned as he dunked his fry into some ketchup. "Sam?" He looked over at his little brother who had barely come up for air since he had started eating. "Want to take a breath?"

"Sorry," Sam whined, casting his large eyes at his big brother. "But my stomach won't _let _me stop."

Bobby laughed. "You can hardly blame it when you have a feast before you."

"Can we go swimming after we're done eating?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder at the large above-ground pool they had recently installed. "I can get a good workout in," he added, hoping the incentive would please his guardians and make them more apt to let him do it.

Jim nodded. "You sure can. I think you earned it," he chuckled. "You did great at the house."

Dean shrugged, taking a bite of his burger. "It was nothing. I'm used to it." It wasn't altogether true, but mostly. He was used to going on these creepy hunts, but the thrill (and the fear) never entirely left his veins, no matter how many outings he went on or how much he prepared.

"You still did good," Bobby cut in. "Not many kids I know are mature enough to handle something like that."

"What does mature mean?" Sam asked, ketchup smearing his cute cheeks from stuffing his face.

"It means your brother handled himself very well on our job," Bill said, helping Jo cut her burger. "He was very brave even though it was really scary, that's what it means."

"It also means that your big brother kicked ass," Dean said, grinning, ignoring the look Jim gave him. "And I'll kick more ass when I beat you at the ball game."

Whenever they got in Bill's pool, they threw a basketball around and pretended it was a basketball. Thinking about that, and the fact that he could finally cool down from the overbearing heat, Dean hurriedly finished his food, got his swimming gear together and beat a path with Sam to the pool.


	18. Chapter 18

Caleb was used to talking to his attorney in high-stress situations, especially recently with his recent detainment. She had always managed to retain an air of calmness, of detached professionalism, but when she walked into the county jail and sat down with him, he could tell that something was on her mind, that something was bothering her greatly.

"What is it?" He was almost afraid to know; afraid that she was there to bring him even _more _bad news.

She sighed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I contacted this investigator to do some work around the crime scene. The cops have been done with it for awhile, so I had him do his own investigation, and he came back with pages of stuff for me to look through."

"Is it good? Or bad?"

"It's in your favor, but I talked to the prosecutor who's going to be trying the case. He agreed to look at the file, but not to expect any change."

It was Caleb's turn to sigh as he contemplated this newest turn of events. "What happens if he _does _drop it?" It was a glimmer of hope that was the only thing he had going for him.

"Then the judge will dismiss it based off lack of evidence."

"What are in the files?"

"More of the DNA evidence, and he also hired someone to tail Lexa's boyfriend, the one who was so abusive with her."

Caleb nodded, his jaw tight; how he wished he could tell all of them the _real _truth about her murder. Then maybe it would go away, he would be a free man and be free to hunt down the monster that had slaughtered her. But he knew that telling them _anything _about the shifter, would only lead them to think he was even crazier than they thought.

"He has a police record the size of my arm, and most of them are domestic violence charges. He's been clean for a few years, but he has a long list of lovers that he's hurt. Lexa was just the unfortunate one because she didn't get out."

Caleb scrubbed a hand over his chin as he thought about what she was saying. It was true that her boyfriend _did _have a sketchy past, and that was never more true when he would watch Lexa break down in tears over the latest incident she had had with the jerk.

"What happens if the prosecutor drops the charges? What's he even like?"

Dawn gave him a wry smile as she considered her answer. "He's a real pain, if you want the truth. He gets the job done, but he's very hardened and he's very no-nonsense. If, by some miracle, he drops the case before we get to the preliminary, the judge's hands will be tied because he can't have a hearing or even a trial without a prosecutor."

It was an instinct of Caleb's to harbor a mistrust toward law enforcement and the justice system. Hunters were always being given a hard time by the cops, and he knew how impossible they made it for hunters to do what they did. Caleb just never thought that it would ever get this bad, that he would be facing the literal _trial of a lifetime_ and all because of some shifter that he should have seen coming. But he knew it was no use dwelling on things he had no power to fix, it would only serve to torment him further.

"What about this judge?" He had slightly more faith in the judge, than the prosecutor. His family had all gone into careers involving law, and one of his relatives had been a judge, and a highly respected one, too. He was slightly more accepting of them than the police officers or the prosecutors.

"I like him. He's fair, kind and he doesn't throw the book at just anyone. He likes to get the facts, and he won't sentence _anyone _without hearing the entire story."

_So far, so good, _he thought. "Is he partial to anyone?"

"No. He's fair to both sides, no favoritism that I've seen _or _heard.

Leaving the Harvelles was almost like leaving a resort. It had been so nice to be able to relax and not, for once, have the crippling thoughts of losing Caleb and his upcoming preliminary hearing, but Dean knew that kind of peace could only last for a certain amount of time as he and his guardians packed up their car to leave.

"You doing okay?" Bobby asked as he came up beside Dean to place one of their duffels in the car. "You seem kind of down."

Dean shrugged, lifting one shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "It just sucks because I know what we're going back to." Talking about his emotions and feelings, wasn't something that he enjoyed doing, but sometimes the guys forced his hand in the matter.

Bobby nodded, taking a moment to process his words. He knew better than almost anyone how hard the last several weeks had been on Dean, and he prayed that it would end soon, that they wouldn't have to endure much more of the ridiculousness that had plagued them so hard recently.

"I know what you mean," Bobby said, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. "But it's not all bad."

"It's not?"

Bobby shook his head. "For one thing, you still have people at home that love you and your brother very much, and you also have your friends and that girlfriend of yours." Dean grinned when Bobby mentioned his girlfriend. "But, Dean, Caleb _will _come back. One way or another, it will happen."

"Prison break?"

"Not out of the question."

Dean nodded slowly. He knew they were trying to do things by the law and let the law sort it out, but there was only so much of that they could tolerate before they had to take matters into their own hands.

When they were finally able to get on the highway that led back to their destination, Dean found that he was a lot more tired than he had previously thought. The snacks he had shared with Sam, plus the gentle rocking motion of the car, placed him completely in a sense of calm and serenity as he let his head fall back against the plush seat and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the rest that had been trying to avoid him.

Dean had no idea how long he had been sleeping for, but when he slowly came to, he saw that they were still on the road, only the sky had darkened considerably and Sam was peering at him curiously. Dean was grateful Sam had left him sleep, instead of poking and asking questions in his hushed voice.

"Are you awake now?"

Dean grinned, rolling his eyes. "Duh. If my eyes are open, then obviously I am."

Sam slumped back against his seat in relief. "Good! Jim keeps singing and he won't stop!"

"Country?"

Sam nodded, his eyes wide as if he were afraid Jim would start singing again.

"Hey! My singing isn't _that _bad. Mrs. Adams from the Church choir taught me."

"I think you need new lessons," Sam winced. "Or else _she _needs to learn how to sing better."

"Now, Sam, is that really nice?" Jim said, glancing at Sam from the rearview mirror.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

"Translation: It isn't," Dean said, shaking his head. "Instead of complaining about Jim's singing, why don't you talk about how awesome his paintball skills are."

Jim laughed, glancing over at Bobby who wore the same amused expression on his face. "Thanks, Dean."

"Anytime."

Dean enjoyed the banter. It was nice, especially when he was able to let his mind go blank and enjoy the moment instead of constantly obsessing over the future. It was a nice change and something he hoped he could train his mind to do more.

When they finally pulled into their driveway a short time later, Dean was grateful. Bill and Ellen always made sure they slept comfortably, but there was nothing quite like sleeping in your own bed and Dean was grateful to be in his.


	19. Chapter 19

Science class. It ranked high on the list of 'most boring class' in the school. Or so, that's what Dean thought as he and his friends perched themselves on the silver-colored stools in front of the desks that had been set up side by side, almost like an assembly line as their teacher calmly gave them direction from the front of the room. The one thing that made the class bearable was that it was the last class of the day before Dean either took the bus home or stayed a little after to hang out with his friends and play games.

"Dean?" He looked over beside him at his friend, Zach. "Which one's your girlfriend?"

Dean frowned, looking over his shoulder at the other desks in the room that were full of hard-at-work students, dissecting something or in Dean's case, learning the inner workings of the human body. It was definitely one of the classes he _wished _he could have had an excuse to skip.

"Right there." He finally spotted Rachel among the throng of heads tightly pressed together, analyzing whatever disgusting project their teacher had them doing that week. "That's Rachel." When she heard her name called, and by her boyfriend no less, Rachel looked up and smiled shyly in his direction.

"Dude, she's _hot_!" Zach said, shaking his head.

Dean rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah she is, isn't she? But she also happens to be available. So back off."

"I didn't mean anything by it...even if it's true."

"Instead of crushing on my girlfriend, find your own."

Zach was about to respond, probably with some smart ass remark, but at that moment, their middle-aged science teacher stepped between the two boys, gently tapping Dean on the shoulder.

"Mr. Borelli wants to see you in the office," she said. Her expression was the same, mildly interested one that she always wore in the classroom, but he could also detect a strange sort of worry on her face that he couldn't quite place.

"Right now?" They were in the middle of an experiment they had been studying for the past two weeks, that day was the conclusion of the experiment.

"Yes. He just called in to inform me."

Dean frowned, his eyebrows creasing together in confusion as he slowly slid out of his seat, stuffed his science equipment in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He could feel the eyes of practically every student on his back as he walked out the door.

Because most classes were still in full swing, the halls of the school were mostly empty, save for the occasional administrator or the janitor that Dean was friends with. The office was right at the front of the school so the walk was a long one, but it gave his legs a good workout from being seated for so long.

When he finally reached the office and walked inside it, curiosity and even a little confusion had settled in his mind. He hadn't done anything wrong that he was aware of, and what other reason would the office have for calling him in?

"Hi, Dean." He looked over at his principle, Mr. Borelli. He was usually a good natured man who always seemed to have a smile on his face, but all Dean saw was worry in his face, the same look his teacher had given him right before he had walked out the door. "This is Mr. Flores." For the first time, Dean noticed another man standing next to Mr. Borelli. Dean recognized him as part of the security team the school had hired to patrol the area, making sure students were kept protected from any freaks that might want to harm them.

"Hey." Dean gave a small smile to Mr. Borelli but regarded Mr. Flores wearily. It was one of the first things he had been taught: regard strangers with guarded curiosity and distance, especially when Flores was in law enforcement. After everything that had happened to Caleb with law enforcement, his feelings toward them weren't exactly warm and inviting.

"You're not in trouble, so you can get that look off your face," Borelli said, cracking a smile for the first time since Dean had entered the office. "There seems to be a small mix-up, though."

Dean frowned as he eased himself into one of the hard-backed chairs in the office, dropping his bag in front of him. "Mix-up? With...what?"

"Sam's bus driver called up to the school and said that he wasn't in the bus. We placed calls to the other buses in that school and he wasn't on any of theirs, either."

Dean felt his blood run ice cold as he tried to process what these people were saying, and the horrific implications of their words. "What? You can't _find _him?" Fear was quickly intermingling with the anger that he was feeling, anger that the school had, in effect, lost his little brother.

"Well, we wanted to ask you if he had any activities that we weren't aware of. If someone maybe picked him up early?"

"No. He goes to karate but that's not until tomorrow."

"And you're sure of that?"

"Of course," Dean said, feeling irritated that they were questioning him like they were.

"Has he been having any problems at home? Any reason why he would want to leave?"

"No. He's been fine." If anything, Sam was the one that had the least problems of anyone in his house.

Dean didn't miss the quick but silent exchange that passed between his principle and the school security guard before Borelli picked up the office phone and started to dial. Dean's head was already spinning at the thought of his brother missing, but his panic only increased when he realized that Borelli was on the phone with police.

"Dean?" He had no idea what his face looked like, but he saw Borelli's face soften upon locking eyes with the eleven-year-old. "Do you remember what Sam was wearing this morning before he left for school?"

"He...he had his Spiderman backpack and a dark blue t-shirt and jeans. That was it." Dean was rapidy blinking back tears, trying to fight a losing battle to keep calm and not panic when every instinct in his body was telling him to do just that.

"Dean?" He looked up, not realizing that Borelli had gotten off the phone with police already. "Who can we call right now to come here to the school?"

"Call Jim. If you can't reach him in his office, call the main Church number."

It was just another painful reminder that Caleb wasn't there because he would have been Dean's first call. He forcibly blinked back the tears as he stood up from the chair, not having the patience to sit still any longer as he paced slowly across the room.

"It may simply be that your brother went off with some friends-" Flores said, watching Dean's progression across the floor. "It happens-"

"Sam wouldn't do that."

Dean bit his lip, tasting metal as blood was drawn. The pain from that was overshadowed rapidly by the pain he was feeling in his chest as he alternated between glancing out the window, hoping to see Jim (or even better, Sam), and looking down at his sore feet.

When the office door was finally thrust open and Jim's friendly face appeared, Dean jumped up from the seat he had taken, and rushed over to meet him. Dean wasn't usually the hugging type, but when he saw Jim, he threw his arms around him, not ever wanting to let go as Jim immediately returned the embrace.

"It will be okay," Jim whispered. "We'll find him. You know we will."

Dean nodded against his chest, trying to find strength from Jim's words. "Yeah." He drew in a shaky breath. "I-I know."

Dean drew back from Jim and watched as he went over to trade information back and forth with the principle and security guard. He was grateful that Jim was there, that he had arrived to take the helm of the ship that Dean was in no way ready to take.

When Jim gestured for Dean to follow him, he wasted no time in doing so as Jim led them out of the office and out into the hallway where Jim steered Dean into a little bench that had been set up there.

"The cops are on their way. I have to talk to them and then-"

"I don't want them here."

He hated them for what they did to Caleb, and how their actions had taken Caleb from them.

"I understand that," Jim said softly, placing his palms on Dean's knees. "But right now, we don't have any clue what we're dealing with. We don't know if it's something supernatural or something completely human. If it _is _human, we need them, regardless of our feelings toward them."

"Why should we trust them?" Dean demanded. "All they've done is screw us. Caleb wouldn't be where he is right now if they did their job right!"

Jim nodded slightly as if he was agreeing with Dean's statement, but what confused Dean was the small smile that had graced Jim's mouth. "I was going to wait to tell you this until you got home from school today..."

"Tell me what?"

"There was blood evidence that the prosecution was going to use against Caleb. It was crucial evidence and it was tainted, something happened to it where now it's become unreliable."

Dean nodded slowly. "So what does that mean?"

"The prosecutor can't go to trial without it. He dropped the case."

Dean was feeling such a dizzying rush of highs and lows that he was surprised he wasn't passing out. He was feeling almost crushing devastation at not knowing where Sam was or what had happened to him, but on the other side, he was ecstatic at knowing that one nightmare at least, was finally over.

"So it's over?" He wanted to make absolutely sure before he let his emotions get the best of him for no reason. But just the thought of Caleb being released from that hell-hole was enough to make his heart do a hand stand.

"For now." Jim smiled, clearly feeling the same kind of relief that Dean was feeling. "The case can always be retried if the prosecution finds new evidence, but for right now, they're through with him."

"So where is he now?"

"Bobby's picking him up right now, and then they're coming straight here."

Dean nodded. "Okay." He hated the fact that Caleb was getting out of jail and was being thrust headlong into another nightmare, but at least he would be free. Free to do what he wanted when he wanted, free to go to sleep and wake up when he wanted and be _home_ in his own bed, with his family.

* * *

Dean thought waiting for Jim to arrive at the school was awful, that was before he found out he would get to see Caleb, and this time their reunion would be permanent. When the heavy double doors to the school finally opened, and Bobby came in followed by Caleb, Dean jumped up from the bench and quickly strode over to them.

"Hey, dude," Caleb said, smiling as Dean threw his arms around him. "Can you believe that I caught a break for once?"

Dean shook his head, blinking away the irksome tears as he pulled away from him. "No," he gave a short, slightly hysterical laugh. "I just wish that _this _wasn't happening." He couldn't help the break in his voice when he thought of Sam and where he could be and who or _what _could have him at that moment.

Caleb nodded, his face as grim as Dean felt in that moment. "I know it looks bad, but the bad guys? They don't ever win, do they? The shifter that wanted to frame me? It didn't win, did it?"

Dean shook his head, swiping halfheartedly at his face as the tears finally made their grand appearance. "No. But what happened to him, Caleb? Where is he?"

"I would give anything to know that right now, just like you would. Right now, we have to trust our instincts and we have to trust that we'll get the information we need in order to know what happened."

Dean nodded shakily. "Okay. "

The two of them didn't have much time to talk after that, because it was around that time the police arrived. Dean glared his distrust at them as they interviewed his principle and the guard.

"What's the estimated time that he went missing?" One officer asked.

"Last he was seen was at approximately two-thirty," Borelli said. "We received a call from his regular bus driver that he didn't board it with the other students. She made a call in to the other buses in the district and they didn't see him."

"What about teachers?"

"His last class was math. His teacher was a substitute. We've spoken with her and she's handed over footage from the class and that includes him leaving it."

Dean's frustration only grew by the second. As far as he was concerned, they were wasting time by standing around talking, when they could be out looking for him, but he also knew that they needed to narrow down a possible list of suspects before they expanded their search elsewhere.

"Dean?" He looked up as Bobby approached him, putting a casual arm around his shoulders, but Dean could tell how tense Bobby was underneath the touch. "You, me and Caleb are going to go home and Jim's going to stay here."

Dean shook his head instantly, not wanting to separate from the school when Sam could still be somewhere around there. "No. I want to stay here."

"Dean, right now, there's nothing that we can do except to wait, and you never know. If someone _did _take Sam and he managed to get away, he might go home and someone needs to be there for him if he does make it there."

"But what if he shows up _here_?" Dean was torn between wanting to have a small measure of peace at home, and wanting to remain at the school in case his brother made his way back there.

"Then Jim will be there for him, but right now, you can't be in two places at once and there's nothing that you can do right now."

"Bobby's right, Dean," Caleb said, kneeling down in front of Dean. "I can see how tired you are, and there's no way you'll be able to crash if you're here. Let's go back to the house and we can figure out what to do from there. Sound good?"

Even though it _didn't _sound good, and even though he wanted to stay where he was, Dean also couldn't argue against Caleb's logic and also the fact that he _was _exhausted from everything that had happened. He doubted he would be able to fully relax until they found out where Sam was, but it wasn't a bad idea to try.


	20. Chapter 20

The phrase "home is where the heart is" is cliche, sure. But for some people, that's all they can hold on to; the promise that they can have an escape, a safe haven of sorts, from the outside world and all the challenges it holds. For Dean, having the promise of a secure home base that was far removed from the evilness of the world, was something that he grasped on to with an iron-clad grip.

It sustained him through the heart-wrenching month when Caleb had been taken away from them, and the uncertainty that followed. And it was sustaining him now (barely) as he went through the motions again, this time with Sam and the frightening realization that wherever his baby brother was, he couldn't protect him. Not this time.

"We need to build up a list," Bobby said, breaking through the silence that had fallen across the group as they made the transition from the school to their home a few blocks over. "We need to know every staff of that school, whoever has access to students and any substitutes."

Dean's head was in a complete fog. He felt numb down to the waist as his feet moved seemingly of their own accord as he stepped foot out of the car and into the brightly lit kitchen of his home. It killed him inside that he couldn't remember the seemingly innocuous details of Sam; what color shoes he had on, what shirt he was wearing and if he had worn the new pair of jeans Jim had gotten him.

"Dean." Dean looked up into Caleb's soft gray eyes as he spread out several color photographs of the teachers and faculty members of the school. "Is the substitute in any of these pictures?"

Dean bent over the table, his hands splayed out over the surface of the counter as his focused hazel eyes scanned the photographs that were laid out in a line in front of him. He had only laid eyes on his substitute a few times, but he was confident in his ability to identify her if need be.

"Right here." He pointed with one finger at the picture of the gray-haired, wizened face older woman smiling up at him. "But she's _old_." He wrinkled his nose. "Would she actually be capable of something like that?"

Bobby shook his head grimly. "Not by herself."

It was all becoming to much for Dean. It should be the happiest time of his life, having Caleb back and reveling in the fact that, for once, fate seemed to be on their side. But it was never that easy, especially when the double life his family lead, seemed intent on caching up with them.

"Would Sam-would Sam know the difference between a normal human and a possessed one?" Sam, at even seven, was astonishingly smart for his age but he was also naively trusting of people and the things around him. It was both a blessing and a curse, and that fact was never more relevant than right that moment.

"He's a smart kid," Bobby said gruffly as he squeezed Dean's shoulder comfortingly. "He knows not to go running off with strangers."

"But would he go with someone he _thought _he knew, but was really a demon?"

It was the thousand, tiny _what if _questions running through his mind that tortured him the most. What if he had been in the same class as Sam? What if Sam had fought back, (if he even did at all), what if someone had seen something and had done something to stop it.

"Most likely, if Sam was the demons target, it wouldn't reveal itself to anyone but Sam, and that wouldn't be unil they were alone," Bobby said. "But right now, we just need to focus on getting him back."

The waiting, the endless waiting and not knowing what to do or how to help was what drove Dean to distraction. He threw himself into the chair across from Caleb and watched him as he carefully pored over the pictures of the staff at the school.

" So why did they let you go?"

Talking was something that would distract him, even if momentarily, and he was also curious to know what had transpired so suddenly for the prosecutor to drop his ridiculous vendetta against Caleb.

"The blood evidence they had was corrupted, and without it they can't go to trial and present it to a jury."

"Not that I'm complaining, but how could it have gotten corrupted?"

Caleb looked at him with a wry expression on his face as he pushed the photographs he had been studying, back into the folder they had come from. "Well, ironically, the investigators screwed it up. They mishandled the evidence and it came back to bit them in a big way."

"It was almost like they were _trying _to find any way they could to get you convicted," Dean said, sounding completely and utterly disgusted at the justice system that was at play in their town.

"Most of the time," Bobby said, "the law enforcement have a very...narrow-minded view of things. They have a way of adding two and two and coming up with five, it doesn't make sense and it _sucks balls _but it's the way their brains operate."

"Jim said they can always retry you in the future if they find anything else?"

It was like a false sense of relief: Caleb was back, but would it be forever? Or would fate rip the rug out from under them again?

Caleb nodded. "Yeah. They can, but my attorney seems to think it's not going to happen because the blood evidence was the one thing they were relying on to get a conviction and it's not there anymore."

Dean shook his head in complete amazement. "So basically most of these guys are just complete idiots?"

"Yeah, basically."

Dean was about to respond, probably with some wise-ass remark, when the phone rang. He looked curiously at Caleb as he made a grab for it. He listened as Caleb spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line, trying to hear the other person's voice so he could get some inkling as to what was going on.

"Who was that?" He asked, once Caleb had hung the phone up.

"Jim."

"What-what did he say?" Dean said, nearly tripping over himself to ask the question. He hoped that Jim had called to say that it _had _all been a horrible misunderstanding and Sam was fine, and coming home.

"He searched the school for sulfur and didn't find any. He also ran the EMF and there weren't any traces of anything."

In some ways, that made the load on Dean's chest lighten considerably, but it still didn't answer the question that he wanted so desperately to be answered: where was he?

"That's good, right?"

Caleb nodded. "It is. Because now it narrows our list down to who could have him. It's a _good _thing, Dean," he added, seeing the look on the eleven-year-olds face. "It means that, most likely, a demon didn't lay its disgusting hands on him."

"So a _human _might have laid its disgusting hands on him?"

Neither alternative was appealing, in the least, especially if it was a human and they had rely more on the law enforcement that had botched their case against Caleb. It was infuriating and it was also sickeningly ironic.

"Dean, believe me, it's better than a demon having him. At least he won't be possessed, at least the demon won't make him do horrible things against his will."

"But if someone _human _hurts him-"

"That won't happen," Bobby interjected firmly. "We're skilled in tracking demons, but we also happen to possess knowledge on how to track humans. Jim is going to grab the security footage from the school and we'll look it over when he gets here. In the meantime, the cops are going to secure the area and start going door to door looking for him."

While they waited for Jim to arrive back at home with the security footage they needed, Caleb busied himself with making calls to several hunters that he knew and trusted. He called his old friend, Jefferson, as well as Bill and Ellen. They all promised to keep an eye out and to spread the word.

"He's too trusting," Dean said, watching as Caleb wrote down the information that Jim had given him previously over the phone. "He'd go with a freakin' ax murderer if he offered him a cupcake!"

Caleb smiled at Dean's comment before nodding his head slowly. "Yeah, he is," he said, not bothering to beat around the bush. "And it's something that we've _all _tried to work with him on, but it just hasn't stuck."

It was one of the things that frustrated Dean the _most _about his brother, that he could be so naively trusting of people. It was both a blessing and a curse and now the latter was never more true than right that moment as they struggled to find him before it was too late.

"What if he got away and he's lying hurt somewhere?" The thought of his baby brother lying somewhere injured, clawed at Dean's heart in a way that he had never felt before, but it was much better than thinking about him in the arms of a psycho freak.

"Then we'll find him," Caleb said firmly, looking up from his writing. "And we'll get him the help that he needs." Caleb made it all sound so simple, so straightforward when Dean knew it was hardly anything _but. _

"I-" he was about to respond, had the words formulated on his lips when the door leading to the garage sprang open and Jim walked in. His normally exuberant expression that he wore around the house, was gone; replaced with worry lines that creased around his forehead as he swiftly crossed into the kitchen.

"Do you have the tape?" Caleb asked, not bothering with the formality of saying "hello" or "how are you?" Because everyone knew how everyone was, panicked and scared for the seven-year-old missing boy.

"I do. They're going to realize its gone soon, but I replaced it with another tape."

"Good."

Caleb took the tape from Jim and popped it into the VCR. Dean hovered around the entrance to the living room, not sure if he wanted to see what was on the tape, or even if his normally stoic stomach would handle the contents of it.

"Dean?" He shifted his gaze to Caleb, who was looking at him with concern etched clear on his face. "Do you want to watch this...?"

"Sure."

In the end, Dean knew it would probably torture him more _not _knowing the contents of the tape and what if _anything _was on it. He took a seat next to Caleb on their sectional sofa, and felt a small measure of comfort when Caleb wrapped an arm around him as he pressed PLAY on the remote control.

* * *

**I really, really wanted to post two chapters at once like I've done in the past, but the next chapter is really kicking my butt and I couldn't seem to pull it off tonight. But in the meanwhile, you guys get to guess what's on the surveillance video!**


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